After the Deluge
by Hikaru8
Summary: After a near fatal sailing accident, Suellen Wilson is forced to confront her estranged father and herself with a little help from Doctor House if she is to save the both of them.
1. Chapter 1

Ok just before we begin I need to lay down a few facts and disclaimers. Part of this story, specifically Suellen's (pronounced Su-Ellen) experience is adapted from Ridley Scott's 1996 film White Squall which was based upon the sinking of the school sailing ship Albatross on May 3rd 1961 where three students, the cook and the skipper's wife drowned. This is my first House fic so I'm yet to get a real feel for writing with the characters just yet, so any support and guidance would be nice. I live in Australia so I'm behind with the Northern Hemisphere's screening schedule therefore there may be a small detail out of place or certain facts omitted from the telling. Lastly, I'm aware that Wilson stated he had no kids in season one, but as this is fan fiction I think I'm entitled to a creative licence and readers wont allow fact to get in the way of fiction. The program House is owned by David Shore and all other respected network owners. Well here goes- read and review!

* * *

_July_

Doctor James Wilson Head of Oncology at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital had a reputation for being a cool, calm and collected character worthy of his position and the respect of his colleges. Never one to raise his voice, showed compassion amidst patients' personal crisis and dealt with medial emergency with the grace of a saint.

He did however, just like everyone else, have certain things that aroused impatience and aggression. So when Doctor Gregory House Head of Diagnostics hobbled into his office for the lunch date he'd peremptorily decided Wilson was taking him on, he immediately knew that Wilson was tackling one of these obstacles.

A phone call from his first wife.

"Yes Martha I understand what you are telling me and I will be there," House took the seat opposite as his friend rubbed his temple with his free hand.

"That's what you said the last time I asked you to take her somewhere and you never arrived," the incredulous voice of Martha King came from the receiver loud enough for House to vaguely hear.

"Look Martha I have a lot to do right now and…"

"Yes I know James, you have patients to console and cancer to cure before home time. I know the story, you've only been telling it to me for sixteen years. You should really find a new excuse because this one is wearing really thin."

"Martha," Wilson's voice rose an octave dangerously and let his feet fall from his desk to the floor with a loud thump. "I will be there all right? Here, I'm writing it down in my diary now," he clicked a pen furiously near the receiver to emphasise his point and slammed his personal planner down in front of him.

House's stubbled face was arranging itself into an amused smile as he took delight in his companion's torture. He'd never been a fan of marriage himself with all the red tape unnecessary fuss. He'd learnt enough from Wilson's experiences of court battles and fighting over household appliances to avoid that venture at all costs.

The infamous doctor had even shared his marital theory with his friend, not that it had done any good.

'Marriage is just like an eel trap-those who are in want out and those outside what in.' A fine philosophy in his opinion.

"Three o'clock this Thursday coming," Wilson began to wrap up the unpleasant call. "I will be there. Tell her I'll see her then ok?"

"You'd better be there James because I won't be here to save you this time and I don't want Suellen to take a cab again."

"She won't have to," Wilson said firmly and after a very short dismissal slammed the phone down onto its holder.

He looked at the black plastic unit for a minute just to make sure his ex-wife was really gone before he let out a loud groan and lent back in his leather chair.

"I divorced the woman fourteen years ago," he moaned piteously rubbing his face and neck. "Why can't she just leave me alone?"

"Why do that when torturing you is so fun?" his friend said in a jovial tone with a sadomasochistic smile.

"Remind me to come to you for sympathy the next time she harasses me about my late child support cheques," Wilson snapped sarcastically then sat upright in his chair again. "Now what did you want? Another mystery case that you want handballed to oncology? Hiding from Cuddy? Got a friendship bracelet from Cameron and you need me to help you pick out the beads for the one you'll make for her? What?"

House lent back in the leather chair and mocked a wounded expression that Wilson didn't fall for in the least. "I can't just come here for some quality friendship time?"

"No never," the younger man rose from his seat and started to sort through some folders, burying the reminder he'd just written to himself.

"What did Martha want?" House knew that his question held no medical relevance or any consequence to him whatsoever but he couldn't deny his curiosity streak.

"You mean other than to ruin my day?" the oncologist didn't bother looking up to respond as he continued to look for some buried piece of information.

"She knows what I'll do to her if she starts moving in on my job," House began to rotate his cane in his right hand, ignoring the pager in his pocket that was demanding he report to the clinic. "I refuse to share."

Wilson rolled his brown eyes at that one. He just loved it when House objectified him like one of his patients. If he ever needed validation he certainly knew who to avoid.

"Martha's going to Boston with her husband and kids this Thursday," Wilson finally relinquished the information House had been ferreting for as he checked that he had enough pens in his coat pocket.

"And this affects you how?"

"Suellen needs a lift to the city Thursday to get the bus that'll take her to the harbour for her cruise or whatever it is," Wilson shuffled a few more things around on his desk until he found his prize, which he pounced upon keenly.

"Suellen's going where?" realising that Wilson was about to leave him alone in his office House pushed down on his cane to get to his feet.

"She's taking a year off school to go on a sailing trip across the Pacific or something or rather," Wilson brushed some of his brown hair out of his eyes and tucked a few manilla folders under arm. "I think there's a brochure around here somewhere about it of you're interested," he gestured carelessly around the room and headed for the door.

"You never told me about that," House hobbled quickly to keep up with Wilson's long strides as they headed for the elevator.

"Why would I?" Wilson hit the ground floor button and House managed to slip in just before the doors closed. "It isn't really important."

"Your daughter is about to leave for an entire year and I don't even a receive a 'My Baby's all Grow Up' speech over a six pack and a box of tissues? What kind of a Dad are you? Never boasting about your kids."

"How did my daughter become your business?" Wilson was getting annoyed now and willed he elevator to move faster. "And I talk about Suellen plenty thankyou."

"Oh?" House strained out the single syllable and lent back on his cane to get a long shot of his companion. "Then why am I the only person in this hospital who's even aware that you have offspring? Everyone else thinks you're sterile."

Wilson rounded on House with an index finger raised in warning, the closest he would ever come to violence.

"Nobody thinks that and other people know Suellen," he stated solidly. "It's just that unlike you I think about my job when I'm at work and not my private life."

"Really?" House asked sceptically as the elevator chimed. "Name one of these 'other people' then."

The elevator doors rolled open and there stood Doctor Lisa Cuddy, fuming in high heels and a low cut outfit, her targets set on a single life for destruction.

"Dr Cuddy," Wilson listed one of the 'other people' smugly and waited for House's just dessert to be served to him.

"House!" the entire foyer knew she was on a search and destroy but her yelling had failed to scare them ever since this House verses Cuddy argument had become an almost daily ritual. "You were supposed to be on clinic duty over an hour ago! Where have you been?"

House had to think fast if he was going to dodge this bullet.

"Consoling Wilson," the lies came off of his tongue naturally absent of guilt and he placed his free had on Wilson's shoulder. "His baby's leaving for overseas Thursday and he couldn't hold back the tears any longer. It's that right?"

"Goodbye," Wilson said cheerfully walking out of House's reach with a triumphant smile and a spring in his step as he listened to Cuddy's yelling at the now closed elevator.

* * *

"The tests came back negative for cancer," Wilson said that Thursday in the cafeteria with a protective hand on his bag of potato chips as Gregory House loomed over him.

"Really? Oh well, guess we'll keep on looking. That is to say that if the patient doesn't die in the meantime," House said with unconvincing woe as he lent on his cane and waited for the ample opportunity to seize Wilson's lunch.

"Pull the other one," Wilson didn't bother to hide his disbelief. "You just wanted me to check for cancer so that I'd help you convince Cuddy to approve another one of your strange and expensive testing methods."

House's bright blue eyes twinkled and he allowed his smugness to show with a thin smile.

"I'm starting to think that I need a new best friend," he pulled out an empty seat and sat himself closer to the crisp bag. "One who can't see through my dastardly plans so easily."

"I'm sure that with your marvellous people skills you'll acquire one in no time." House was the one person beside his ex-wives Wilson would allow himself to be openly rude to. Although he knew it was mostly only to get even, he thought perhaps if he performed the mirror effect House would be kinder to others.

He knew it was a false hope.

"Besides you've really let yourself go," Wilson continued with his pompous speech as he ate his lunch with a single utensil being too wary to put down the guard on his chips. "You don't put anywhere near as much thought into your conniving schemes as you used to. Pretty much everyone from Cuddy to me to my fifteen year old kid can see through them."

Before House could supply a witty quip Wilson had dropped his fork and looked at his watch hurriedly. It read a quarter to three.

"Shit," he cursed and knocking the chair over ran out of the cafeteria cursing between muttering, "car keys, car keys!"

House watched him go with great amusement and once it was clear he wouldn't be returning, grabbed the discarded bag of chips and made himself comfortable in the plastic seat.

The couple at the table over staring at the door Wilson had just run through with shocked expressions caught his eye. To hear James Wilson swear was like hearing a saint swear, or House apologising.

"Yea I know," the diagnostics department leader said through a mouthful of chips. "Guess he's not sterile after all."

* * *

A loud car horn caught Suellen Wilson's attention as she loaded her luggage into the boot of a neighbour's car, brushing her short dark blonde hair out of her eyes to peer through the windshield of the oncoming car.

"Is that your Father?" a man of around fifty asked holding a knapsack up for her to grab.

"Yea," the teen said unemotionally and headed for the car now pulling up to the curb.

James Wilson sprung from the car after untangling his arm from the seatbelt with great haste to meet his daughter half way across the lawn, careful to avoid the garden gnomes.

"It's ok Dad," Suellen said neutrally as she came to a halt. "Allen said he'd take me to the bus station. You can go back to work."

Wilson came to a stop in front of her and clasped her arms as a gesture of reassurance. "No, no, it's ok, sorry I'm late," he said quickly before stepping around her and hurried up the drive.

Hands deep in her cargo shorts Suellen watched as her father apologised profusely to her neighbour and pulled her bags from his car boot. Still expecting an overdue growth spurt Suellen stood a little below her father's shoulder with a lithely thin frame and dirty blonde hair cropped just under her chin. Her warm brown eyes were the only physical characteristic that gave her father's identity away.

"Sorry I'm late," Wilson gushed as he popped the boot and threw the bags in one after another. "I got held up at work. Quick hop in and we can make it in plenty of time!"

Suellen sighed and obediently sat in the driver's side of the European designed car. The air conditioning evaporated the sweat the summer afternoon had created on her skin and sent a small chill through her. They pulled away from the curb and Suellen waved to her neighbour as they cruised out of the street. She would have to send him a postcard to say thanks.

In all honesty she didn't know why her mother had bothered to call her father in the first place. She'd been perfectly settled with getting a lift with Simon like his parents had offered. However when she'd suggested this over her mother's idea that James should take her to the bus station it had only caused an argument she couldn't win.

Martha had been hung up on the crazy notion that she and her father should see each other again before she set off. Suellen really couldn't fathom why as in her entire history she could only recall her father being reliable for one thing- being unreliable.

It took Suellen a moment to realise that he was speaking to her and she turned away from the window with a clueless expression.

"Hmm? Sorry what were you saying?" she apologised and listened intently for the repetition.

"I said do you think it's a good idea to be skipping a year of school for a fishing trip? It could really effect your high school prospects if they know you had a gap year," Wilson asked as he flicked the indicator and mentally planned his exit from the housing estate.

"I'm not having a gap year," Suellen had been over this subject with her mother several times already. "The Albatross is a school sailing ship. I'll complete a ninth year equivalent on board and it is _not_ a fishing trip. It's an education program."

Wilson let out a snort of scepticism as he pulled out onto a main road en route to the freeway. "Education? What's sort of an education do you plan to get in the South Pacific? It sounds like an expensive holiday to me."

"A cultural education," the girl replied impatiently, "and we're going to the Caribbean. Besides I'll be back at the end of the year for mid year exams and if I fail those I wont be allowed back on the ship for the remainder of the voyage."

"I thought this thing went for a year," Wilson's brow furrowed with confusion and turned to his daughter for a second before focusing his attention back on he road.

"We set sail from the harbour tomorrow, sail for six months, return for two weeks in December then go back out until next June. You know this. We've gone through it three times already," Suellen was tense but she explained it as calmly as she possibly could.

"When did we talk about it?" Wilson's voice was purely clueless as he overtook the car in front. " I don't remember that."

"I spoke about it with you four times!" Suellen cried and shook her hands to emphasise her frustration. "Two of them were before I'd even committed to it! And as I recall you did have to sign all those permission forms before I could get accepted. Didn't you read any of that stuff?"

"Of course I did," he snapped back sternly to settle her down.

That part was a lie since he'd actually just signed his name where it had been indicated on the forms Suellen had left on his desk and had picked up a week later.

The silence stretched into minutes and continued increasing until Suellen began to tinker with the car's radio to find some music.

"So are you excited?" Wilson made an attempt at conversation. In recent years conversation had become increasingly infrequent between the two of them so starting one was not without difficulty.

"Yea should be good," she replied in a brighter tone and sat back in her seat once satisfied with the radio station. "The skipper's wife rang a few times just to make sure I was still comfortable with going and assured me that I'll be well looked after and a great time and all that stuff. There's only one other girl coming on this trip so she wanted to make sure I could handle myself with twelve teenage boys."

Wilson blinked with surprise at that last part and turned to look at her once they'd stopped at a red light. "Do you think you can handle it?" he asked somewhat concerned.

Suellen shrugged and smiled confidently at his expression. "I just told her that after everything Alexander's thrown at me nothing could surprise me. Simon's coming too so I think it should work out fine."

"Do I know Simon?" Wilson asked as he eased on the accelerator and took the turn off for the city.

"I should think so," Suellen was annoyed again, he could tell by the sound of her voice. "We've only been hanging around each other since we were four. You know, tall gangly kid with blonde hair and wear glasses?"

"Oh yes," he said slowly as his memory recollected an image of the boy just described. "I remember now, nice kid."

After that very little was said between the two, as often was the case when they spoke. Wilson knew that most fathers went through a rough patch with their children as they progressed into their teens and developed a poor attitude towards authority figures. However he sensed that there was more that just than that causing the friction between he and Suellen.

Every divorced parent had a unique relationship with his or her kids, some constantly demanding more access hours, others having more for a casual friendship with their son or daughter and then there were some who disappeared from the parenting scene completely.

Wilson felt that he didn't totally fall into any of those three categories cleanly as he rarely showed up for his delegated visiting times, just often enough to make the rare cameo appearance. He also got the distinct impression Suellen didn't consider him as a friend, still her father but not a favourable one.

The oncologist had so little experience on the parenting scene that when asked at a research function or by a patient he claimed not to have children. Wilson had told House it was a way to compartment his personal and working life separately but he wondered if he really hid Suellen to cover his lack of parenting passion or to evade questions about his daughter that he honestly didn't know the answers to.

So that's how things were at that point in time, Suellen a fifteen-year-old failing chemistry and Wilson approaching forty and divorce number three. The title 'Dad' was almost foreign and one he'd never responded to out of habit. His excuse had always been work and "something's just come up" but he sensed Suellen never really meant it when she said, "it's fine."

"That must be the one," Suellen said and pointed out the window to a mini bus parked outside the bus station as they drove past. "Oh yes, I can see Simon's dad."

"Ok let's find a park," Wilson was glad to have made it on time and scanned the parking lot for an empty spot. He didn't manage to find one close to the building so Suellen scurried off to get a trolley for her luggage to save themselves the strain.

Wilson opened the boot and rested against the bumper bar as Suellen headed towards the building, her blonde hair easily spotted against the Summer's azure sky. He loosened his tie and unbuttoned his sleeves so he could roll them up. He'd spent so much time in the hospital's air-conditioned building that he'd forgotten how hot outside had been recently.

Checking his phone he saw there were two missed calls from Julie and a text message from House instructing Wilson to prescribe him more Vicodin when he returned from "playing Daddy."

Wilson rolled his eyes when he saw that on screen and decided to postpone listening to the angry voicemail his wife had left until later. He found the idea of him "playing Daddy" as House described it almost humourous as Martha had once brutally pointed out during a telephone argument that Suellen's stepfather Bill had in actual fact spent more time with his daughter in her lifetime than he had.

An approaching rumbling diverted his attention away from his cell phone to his only child racing across the car park pushing an aluminium trolley as the teen he assumed to be Simon stood on it in surfer stance. Suellen took the corners sharply in an attempt to jostle him but only received laughter and sniggering comments.

"Hi Mr Wilson," Simon held up one of his long arms in greeting as he wore an exhilarated smile. Wilson, besides being amused that someone still called him Mister and not Doctor, thought of Suellen's friend as a puppy. Large and lengthy limbs that the rest of his body was yet to grow into.

Wilson also noticed the fact that Suellen smiled brighter as she loaded the trolley with her best friend than she had at him when he'd arrived. Actually, now that he thought about it he couldn't recall if she'd had smiled at while in his presence this afternoon.

She spoke to Simon with more passion and enthusiasm than with him he noted too as they headed to the parked mini bus with Wilson following behind feeling slightly neglected.

After briefly shaking hands with Simon's parents Wilson stood on the curb beside the mini bus as the driver closed the storage compartment and Simon rolled the trolley back to its holding bay. There were only three other people inside the bus, waiting patiently for its departure. Two boys and one girl a few years Suellen's senior.

"All aboard," the driver called and he pulled his obese figure up the steps to make the last trip of the day and sounding very pleased about it.

Simon's mother and father made a scene of sending their son off with hugs and advice as his four-year-old sister pulled at his surf shorts for attention. It was assumed that the parents of the other teenagers had already said their goodbyes and left.

James and Suellen meanwhile weren't so sure what they should be doing just then. Should they be putting on a show like in Simon's case or should Suellen of just climbed on board and sat amongst the others already in the bus.

"Well goodbye then," the daughter was the one to break the pregnant pause with a half smile and some shrugging.

"Have a good time," her father said and dared a hug.

Suellen didn't deny the embrace, stepping into in compliantly but the hold lacked any emotion and felt awkward. She only wrapped her arms around Wilson's back loosely and he patted hers with a touch of boredom. It was like when a child attempts to make a Ken and Barbie doll hug- performed with the limbs rigid and their minds elsewhere.

"Ok I'll send you a postcard," Suellen promised distractedly and after a quick goodbye to Simon's family, followed him onto the bus not bothering to look out the window again after she took a seat.

"Hard to believe they're fifteen already isn't it?" Simon's father asked from behind as the smell of exhaust filled their nostrils and the bus revved its engine. "It's like they don't even need us any more."

As the bus rolled out of its parking space and towards the open roads Simon ran to the back of the bus to wave to the assortment of people left behind. Suellen instead could be seen moving around extending her hand in introduction before laughing at a joke one of her new companions made.

"Yea it sure is," Wilson replied absently watching the bus taking his daughter to the harbour joined the traffic and travelled down the road until it was blocked from sight by the other parked buses.

* * *

_December _

The hot air pouring out of the heating system in the boardroom would have lulled Wilson into a pleasant sleep had he not been an active participant in the current debate between the Organ Transplant Committee. At that moment he was patriotically supporting House's proposal to provide his latest patient with a new kidney while representatives from three other departments rebutted his point with House's numerous past offences.

Cuddy sat at the head of the table supporting her chin with one hand as she watched the medical experts battle it out attentively. As always the final decision would be hers and she would have to base that decision on the arguments presented by her colleges here, not House's gut instinct.

Wilson was mid way through arguing the last unflattering remark about his friend's work ethics with hands raised in emphasise when the man of the hour came through the door himself, his blue eyes scanning over the room quickly.

"Doctor House you are not permitted to sit in on this meeting," Cuddy protested as she rose out of her seat. The entire discussion had come to halt by the sudden entrance and all eyes were on the imposter.

"You need to see this," House seemed oblivious to everyone else in he room and limped his way to Wilson as fast as he could, a newspaper tucked under one arm.

"House can't this wait?" Wilson made it clear he was annoyed for having lost his train of thought.

"Doctor House I'm going to have to ask you to leave," there was no tolerance in Cuddy's voice and the rest of the Transplant Committee awaited the impending fallout.

House ignored her and dumped the newspaper in front of Wilson. His face was hard and the urgency written in his eyes subdued any more protest from Wilson. House not rising to Cuddy's protests sent alarm bells ringing in his mind. Realising the gravity of the situation the oncologist looked down at the paper thrust in front of him.

"School Sailing Ship Albatross Sinks," the headline screamed up at him. "Six Reported Drowned."

Those two sentences stopped Wilson's brain from functioning instantly. A coldness swept through him that deprived his body of the room's warmth and the colour drained from his face immediately. A cold sweat appeared on the back of his neck and he was unable to swallow, a terrible dread shutting his body down.

Noticing the chilling change the other doctors gave each other questioning looks to seek out the answer and their disgruntlement forgotten. This reaction was uncharacteristic of James Wilson. Something terrible must have happened.

"Is everything all right Doctor Wilson?" Cuddy asked trying to restore order.

"I've called the Harbour Guard all ready," House ignored her and focused entirely on his friend. "A Russian liner on it's way to New Jersey picked them up last night and is expected to dock in a couple of hours. They wouldn't release the names of the dead, said they had to wait for something official first."

That was enough to snap Wilson from his trance, suddenly able to move again. He shot to his feet breathing deeply, hands shaking before running out of the room. The meeting, his job, his shambled marriage and House all forgotten.

Only one thing mattered now. Getting to the harbour.


	2. Chapter 2

Hi this is Hikaru wishing you happy reading for the next chapter and to ask ever so kindly if you readers wouldn't mind giving me some feedback when you're done. My thanks to Wynn for blessing me with my first (and only) review for this story- I'll dance at your wedding my dear. Bye now.

* * *

If the hospital staff could have seen him then, they wouldn't have believed it was James Wilson driving. In nineteen years behind the wheel he had always kept at least five kilometres below the speed limit in any zone but today he was working the engine to full capacity as he sped through rain and sleet. Constantly overtaking other vehicles on the way to the harbour.

His mobile phone rang beside him in the passenger seat but he paid no attention. Whatever it was could wait, just then his mind was single track. He'd left the hospital it such a hurry he hadn't even changed out of his white lab coat or provided an explanation for Cuddy. All he could focus on was the road in front of him and the signs telling him how many more kilometres to the harbour. It was a long drive, definitely not somewhere he could visit on his lunchbreak and make it back in time for an afternoon meeting.

It was pouring by the time he reached the harbour, the wind most vicious as it came off the water without anything to break it. The windscreen wipers were struggling under the weight of the water and Wilson had another sudden panic attack when he realised he had no idea where the ship was docking.

As the car sped past boat sheds and docks he wondered whether to ring House for more information from the newspaper article when through his icy windshield he saw television vans at a nearby dock. A group of people was setting a camera up as they ran attempting in vain to keep the electronics dry with a poncho.

Wilson swerved the car into an illegal parking position and ripped the key out of the ignition. Pushing against the torrential wind he forced the door open and leapt from the car and locked it with a careless flick of the central locking remote before following the camera crew in pursuit of six o'clock news.

He reached the shelter of the dock and was met with a crowd of reporters clicking their cameras and filming footage in amongst the unsettled group of anxious parents. Dripping from head to toe, his coat now transparent from the rain, Wilson asked the woman in front of him if he was in the right place but received no answer.

The crowd then struck up a startling wail and the drenched oncologist stood on his toes to see a group of mismatched teens descending from the docked ship down the pier flanked by Russian sailers.

"Jake!"

"Do you see him?"

"Trent!"

"Dean!

"Where is he?"

"Robyn!"

"Simon!"

"Suellen!" Wilson's own voice joined the chorus of parents as he pushed past others to get to the front. He couldn't make out who was coming towards them from where he was standing.

He bumped a television camera with his shoulder by didn't care. Puffing clouds of mist he fought against the mob and called out to his daughter. He couldn't even tell if she was there amongst the Russians.

He could see boys and men of all shapes and sizes rushing towards their parents fighting off questions from reporters and being blinded from camera flashes. Just as a nearby mother gave a wail of despair he spotted her.

There at the back, shrinking under the hold a tall dark haired boy had around her stood Suellen. Her hair was set straight and darkened by the rain and her face pale in contrast to her tropical tan but it was definitely her, scared and tiny against the tempest. In both hands she gripped a leather folder so tightly her knuckles had turned white.

"Suellen! Suellen! Suellen!" a new energy broke Wilson's inertia and he roughly manhandled everyone between him and his child. He continued screaming as the reporters closed in on her and her companion until finally she looked in his direction.

With one last violent push Wilson broke from the reporter's ring and ran towards Suellen, stopping only once he had her in his arms. The boy holding onto her blocked his path and got a fist ready but Sullen ran around him and into Wilson's reach.

The grip he had around her body came close to snapping her tiny bones but she didn't protest, Suellen herself clinging to her father with the same intensity. Face buried in his chest she forgot the friction between them and breathed in deeply the combination of sweat and washing powder that lingered in his wet shirt. Wilson heard the reporters approaching and decided it was a good time to leave.

"Come on Honey let's go," he said soothingly but hastily and pulled her towards his parked car.

"Excuse me sir," a Russian sailor using his high school English stepped in front of Wilson to block his escape. "We must take children to hospital. Some need medical attention."

"I'm a doctor," Wilson said quickly and noticing the sailor's vacant expression pulled at his lab coat to emphasise his point.

"Ah yes, ok," that seemed convincing enough for the Russian and escorted them through the crowd, performing brilliantly as he pushed and threw people aside like pillowcases on laundry day.

After coaxing Suellen into the car first, Wilson slammed the passenger door closed and opened the boot to pull out a picnic rug and first aid box he kept in case of emergency. He tossed them violently into the back seat before sitting himself behind the wheel and jamming the key into the ignition.

After driving a few blocks away from the disaster he pulled to the side of the road and stopped the engine. His hands stayed firm on the wheel for a few more moments before his body went limp against the car seat.

'It's all right now,' he told himself silently. 'Suellen's alive. She's safe. Just relax and get a hold. That's right she's ok now. Breathe James, breathe.'

Turning his head to his passenger he saw Suellen staring out in front with a glassy catatonic gaze still clasping the leather bound folio with a tight grip. Her bottom lip shook involuntarily and her body trembled through the oversized uniform the Russians had provided her with.

Picking his phone up from beside the gear stick he hit the speed dial and waited for House to pick up at the other end. After receiving his general rough greeting Wilson assured him that Suellen was ok and that he was heading back to the hospital immediately.

"Can you meet me in the clinic? She's got some bandages on her hands and arms but Cuddy will tell me it's unethical to treat her myself."

"Wouldn't it make more sense to take her to the emergency room of a closer hospital then?"

"I'm not letting some med student perform meatball surgery on her after twelve hours in a waiting room!" Wilson was unusually aggressive to his friend as he kept his eyes on Suellen. "Just do me this one favour ok?"

"Sure," House agreed much to Wilson's surprise. Getting House to the clinic was like getting a heathen to a chapel. "How bad are her hands?"

"Hang on let me see," Wilson tucked the phone between his shoulder and ear to free his hands. Leaning across his seat he slowly put his hand on Suellen's bandaged right only to have her pull away quickly with a terrified look.

"No!" she said loudly extending the vowel.

"I won't hurt you. I just want to look Honey," he assure her and made a second attempt.

"No!" she screamed and slammed into the car door forcefully still refusing to relinquish her grasp on the dripping folder.

"Um House," Wilson began.

"I heard that," House stopped him from explaining. "Just bring her in and maybe she'll have calmed down by then. Sounds like she's still pretty shaken."

"Obviously. Bye," Suellen's father said dryly and hit the 'end call' button before throwing the phone into the glove box. After releasing a deep sigh he reached into the back seat and grabbed the blanket. Any attempt to use the first aid kit would clearly be useless.

The blonde teen again backed away from his approach and shook her head at the rug as it afraid of it.

"I'm not going to try touching your hands again," Wilson said soothingly, "but you're all wet and you might get hypothermia. This is just to keep you warm. I promise."

"You're not taking this," Suellen spoke as if they were having another conversation and pulled the folder to her breasts.

"I won't try and take it," Wilson shook his head solemnly, holding his breath until Suellen moved back into her seat allowing the rug to be wrapped around her.

He spoke aloud as he reached across to buckle her in and started the car so she wouldn't panic and start to trust him. Wilson had dealt with many patients in shock before and knew it was only a matter of time and pressure before their isolated world shattered and they snapped. The trip back to Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital was just like driving with a time bomb strapped in the seat beside him.

* * *

It was late afternoon by the time Wilson and child returned to the hospital. The rain had let up to steady drizzle and the darkness was encroaching. However despite the tempestuous weather Wilson felt relieved to be back on familiar territory. All that was left to do now was to get Suellen treated, have her mother take her home and then James could crawl back into his own life after a few stiff drinks.

"Ok Honey we're going to go inside and get you looked at," Wilson explained calmly as he killed the motor. "Then you can go home."

He turned to get her response but saw that she wasn't paying attention, her mind still locked tight.

"Suellen?" he lent over and tapped once on her shoulder. The slight touch had maximum effect however causing her to jump and gasp, rounding on him with wide eyes.

"Sorry," Wilson apologised snapping his hand back and got out of the car.

It was still cold out and having the car heater on full blast for the entire trip had done little to dry out his clothes. His trousers and shirt still clung to his clammy skin with his jacket weighing them down. He couldn't wait to go up to his office and change into his spare clothes.

His socks squelched inside his shoes as he walked around the car then opened Suellen's door and lent in to unbuckle her. Wilson felt a certain nostalgia as he did this, recalling the time when Suellen had been too small to do anything for herself and still rode in the car with a booster seat.

As the strap slid back into its holder Wilson noticed that the bandages binding Suellen's hands were soaked red with blood dripping freely down her fingers. Clear evidence of a quick patch job.

The walk to the clinic door was slow and tedious, as much as Wilson wanted to get her into an exam room and solve the problem, it was very dangerous to rush someone in her condition.

Suellen blinked her heavy eyelids as they entered the hospital, dazzled by the bright lights of the clinic waiting area. It was quiet and almost empty now as it was approaching closing time and Wilson wondered if House had grown impatient and left. It wouldn't be uncharacteristic of him.

"Suellen," she snapped her head up to look at her father's concerned face at the sound of her name. "Wait here a minute while I find Doctor House ok?"

"Mm mm," Suellen managed to push out between her sealed lips and the arm steading her disappeared.

With long strides Wilson paced down the hall throwing open the door to every examination room until he found his friend sitting on an examination bed alone playing a pocket computer game.

"Where is she?" House skipped the greeting and closed his toy. He set his cane on the ground and cautiously descended from the bed until he was standing upright.

"I'll get her," Wilson hurried back to the reception desk to find Suellen standing a little further away from where he'd left her. She was holding the folder to her with one arm and with her opposite bleeding hand nursed a maple leaf.

The hospital used the maple as its logo and kept a display of potted ones in the lobby to create a friendly yet official atmosphere to the establishment. The controlled environment of the building had kept their leaves longer at their scarlet red stage.

"Suellen?" he asked cautiously and tilted his head to seal a glance of her expression.

"It's so beautiful," she said softly withholding expression.

Suddenly a rush of warm liquid rose from her stomach and she doubled over, vomiting on the floor in front of her. Clutching her abdomen she sobbed only inches above the puddle of bile while Wilson rubbed her back making assuring promises.

"Hell!" she screamed at the top of her voice, bringing the clinic to a complete halt and her crying grew louder.

"Simon!" she screamed hysterically finally breaking out of shock. "Grant! Oh God! I'm sorry! No! No! No! I'm so sorry! I'm sorry!"

"It's ok," Wilson fought to be heard over her and reached over to pull the folder away from her. That was when all hell broke loose.

"No! Keep the hell away from me!" Sullen pulled away from her father's hold and screamed louder, kicking at his hands that tried to restrain her.

Doctor House, who had been watching the scene from the exam room doorway limped back inside and opened a series of draws, searching hastily until he found what he wanted. Then as fast as his leg would allow he headed towards the drama holding a hypodermic needle.

"Suellen, Suellen, calm down!" Wilson's voice had grown hard and commanding but it did nothing to help him or the nurse now under attack from the teenager's kicks and screams. With her heart beating faster from fear and adrenalin blood had now coated her hands with more appearing on her bandaged arms.

"Hold her down Wilson!" House yelled as he reached the scene.

His appearance diverted Suellen's attention for a moment and Wilson took that opportunity to wrap his arms around her from behind. He then looked up at House to see him squirting any air and a drop of sedative from the needle.

"What are you doing?" he yelled over Suellen's hysterics. The nurse was now unsuccessfully pulling the folder away from her.

"I have to sedate her!" House's frustration was clear being both angry at the situation and Wilson's inability to hold his daughter still long enough to inject her.

"You just can't give her sedatives!" Wilson argued as Sullen bucked against him and fought over the folder. "She's hysterical!"

"All the more reason to send her to sleep!" that was House's final argument and moved in to inject the hypodermic into the girl's arm.

Unfortunately for him Suellen saw it coming. Stretching her neck and twisting her torso in the direction of the needle she caught House's wrist between her teeth and bit down. Hard.

"Wilson she is biting! She is biting!" he yelled once Suellen broke the skin causing him to drop the injection. With one hand he gripped his cane to prevent his fall with the other trapped between an adolescent's teeth.

He'd read that people in hysteria could muster strength their bodies were usually incapable of and was finding out first hand it was true. Suellen was now fighting a war on three fronts kicking and slamming her lower body against her father's hold, wrestling the nurse for the endeared leather folder and sinking her teeth into House's wrist.

With all the screaming, yelling, abuse and general mayhem this was causing, being stabbed with a hypodermic needle loaded with sedative was a complete surprise.

Dr Lisa Cuddy had just injected her in the base of her neck and pushed down until the entire amount had been administered.

For a few more moments Suellen continued to struggle then the pressure on House's wrist decreased, allowing him to pull his wrist away and hiss in pain. With a final yank the nurse got the now bloodied folder out of Suellen's hands and her body went limp in Wilson's hold.

She murmured something indecipherable as she lost consciousness then all was calm again. The adults puffed and panted with both relief and exhaustion before going their separate ways. The nurse returned to reception and put the folder under the desk for safekeeping, Cuddy ordered her two doctors to take care of things immediately and Wilson followed House into the examination room carrying Suellen.

The oncologist kicked the door closed behind him and layed his daughter on the examination table as House bound his bleeding wrist in a temporary bandage. The entire time bitching about the Wilson line being a family of biters.

"She was upset," Wilson defended and began to unwind the red bandages on Suellen's right hand. "I'm sure she didn't mean to. Probably didn't really know what was going on. If it helps your pride I'll have her apologise when she comes round."

He dumped the used bandage in the bin and took a look at the injury.

"Shit," he cursed once he had examined the wound nursing Suellen's tiny hand in his larger one. "What moron left this open?"

A deep gash ran across her palm diagonally still bleeding liberally and boarded with chunks of dead skin now turned brown. This was going to be a rather large patch job and he would to have to scrub his hands before continuing.

"Probably the ship's cook who doubles up as ship's surgeon and laundryman to receive three pay cheques at the end of the month," House snapped a plastic glove against his wrist and made his way over to the table. "I bet he has a special place on his pig iron wall for his mail order diploma. Go and get changed and I'll take a look at this."

"Are you sure?" Wilson asked already setting her hand down gently.

"Yea, I've got it," House said looking over the injury. "Can't have little Jimmy catching a cold so you'd better get some dry clothes. And call that ex wife of yours too."

Without reply Wilson left the room and headed to his office where a sports bag full of warm dry clothes lay waiting. What he would have given for a hot shower and a brandy just then-it had been one draining day.

"Ok Sue let's take a look," House sat on stool beside the patient table and unwound the bandages on her opposite hand and arms to reveal a matching injury on her left hand with smaller cuts and bruises on her arms.

"This is going to take a lot of stitches," House said to the sleeping girl and pushed the stool so it rolled to the appropriate cupboard, "but with any luck we'll be able to avoid a skin graph."

"My God you're actually talking to a patient," House hadn't heard Cuddy open the door behind him. "If only you could be so courteous to the conscious ones."

"She doesn't bite in her sleep," House grumbled and rolled back to the table where he rubbed a heavy amount of antiseptic on Suellen's hands. "Nice job with the sedative by the way. You just saved yourself three Workcover pay outs."

Doctor Cuddy ignored the snitchy remark and lent against the bench behind her, arms crossed and wearing a weary expression. "What happened to her?"

"Ship went over in a storm according to the news report," the crippled doctor gave the answer easily for a change as he meticulously sewed the girl's hands back together.

"And those wounds on her hands?"

"She wasn't really in the mood for conversation in case you didn't notice," House snapped then focused his attention back on his work.

However he had to admit that he was as equally curious about how Suellen had received these injuries. It appeared that she'd held onto something sharp but the cuts along her palms were jagged and chunky, caused by something uneven he presumed.

"Give her an ultrasound and x-ray," Cuddy ordered in her best Dean of Medicine voice and walked back to the door. "I'll admit her overnight for observation. Tell Wilson for me."

* * *

Wilson returned to the clinic some time later as the last of the patients were leaving and the nurses were closing the area for the night. He'd just spent the last ten minutes on the phone calming a hysterical Martha who was on her way now to see her eldest daughter.

Now warm and dressed in dry clothes Wilson approached the reception desk and politely asked for the folder Suellen had guarded diligently for the entire day. He pulled two tissues from the box behind the desk to wipe the wet blood and grime off of the leather before he unzipped the folder.

The odour released from the damp case was so repugnant that Wilson pulled his head away and made an appalled noise. It seemed that the leather had provided a fine safeguard for the contents but a small amount of seawater and grime had seeped through the weaker areas, probably the zipper part he guessed.

Wilson peeled away the first few top papers from the stack and discarded them in the bin being beyond repair. Beneath them a few more pages had streaks of ink and pencil running down them like tears on a face but were still salvageable.

The artist's works varied from landscapes of sunsets over the sea and tropical islands drawn at a distance to action portraits. The collection of sketches included teenage boys pulling up rigging, a girl sitting of the side of the boat with her legs dangling, friends sharing a meal below deck and many more.

Wilson thumbed through the rest of the art folio to discover more pictures and scraps of writing each with 'Grant' and a date scratched in the corner. The same name Suellen had screamed in anguish.

Closing the folder and zipping it tight Wilson headed back to the examination room carrying Suellen's precious cargo under his arm and all the while wondering who this artist named Grant was. And what had happened to him to have had such an effect on Suellen.


	3. Chapter 3

Greg House was winding up an insulting morning briefing with his staff when Suellen returned to the hospital a fortnight later.

"And that Chase is why you'll never be worthy to use the whiteboard markers," House concluded with a smug expression while the Australian rolled his eyes.

"What about the patient?" Doctor Cameron asked raising her pen in question as House busied himself with making a cup of coffee.

"Patient?" House asked. "What patient? Oh right the dying guy! Get me a MRI and go see what the lab has for us. Foreman you go and visit him first, see if he's ready to tell the truth before we find his big secret on the scan."

"What makes you think he was lying to start with?" Foreman remained seated while his two colleagues stacked their case notes preparing to leave.

"Everybody lies," Cameron whispered to Foreman who shook his head and followed suit.

An echoing thumping noise on the glass door caught the attention of the four doctors who all turned to see a young blonde teen in jeans and a hooded blue sports jacket waving a bandaged hand at House.

There was a silent pause as three of the physicians exchanged clueless glances, which increased when House passed them and headed to the door. It actually seemed as if he was going to go speak to a patient.

He pushed the door open and said something to the girl that they couldn't hear. Then turning back to his employees he snapped, "MIRs does perform themselves hop to it! I'll be in the clinic, call if you need me or even if you don't," then left.

"Did House just say he was going to the clinic?" Foreman asked incredulously appealing to his coworkers for conformation. "To treat a patient?"

"Nothing will surprise me any more," Chase said sounding bored and walked around Cameron to the door. "I'll go and get the MRI arranged. Meet me in ten Foreman?"

"Aren't you the least bit curious about who that was?" Cameron asked looking between the two men. She was already set on investigating the circumstances around House's new passion to heal people.

"No," they replied curtly in unison and left her alone in the office with a whiteboard full of symptoms.

Allison Cameron however felt differently.

* * *

After Suellen had made certain Cuddy wasn't in the near vicinity she waved to House to come and join her. House poked his head around the corridor, saw Suellen ushering to him and hobbled in her direction until he'd reached the safety of the empty exam room.

"That was really pathetic," Suellen said with disgust once the door was closed and curtains drawn. "A grown man afraid of four hours of clinic duty a week."

"Keep that up and I'll take the stitches from your hands and put them in your lips," House warned.

Suellen just shook her head and sat up on the exam table, unwinding the white bandages from her hands while House slipped on a pair of plastic gloves, snapping them in a maniacal manner just for fun.

"I thought I told you to let those hands breathe," he grumbled as he pushed a stool next to Suellen and slowly settled himself onto it.

"It did," the patient was quick to defend herself against the scolding. "I just put these on this morning because I was worried they'd split on the handlebars."

Then noticing House's questioning expression she added, "I had to ride my bike here."

"I thought your mother didn't work," House asked and pulled out the first stitch with the shiny medical tool. "Why didn't she drive you?"

Suellen winced before answering and resisted the urge to pull her hand out of the doctor's grasp. It was amazing enough that House had agreed to remove the black surgical threads in the first place so she had to be on her best behaviour to keep him there.

"She doesn't," she continued with their conversation. "She had appointments with her social circle today so I had to get here myself. Surprise, surprise."

Suellen had placed a certain emphasis on the word 'appointments' that connoted dissatisfaction and chagrin. House pulled out three more stitches then moved onto the next stage of the discussion.

"Daddy-o didn't tell you me were coming in today," he said in a simple tone as if it was only a passing comment but he knew very well the topic was an emotional landmine.

"Of course not," Suellen shifted back to get a full profile of House in her sights. "He hasn't seen me since he brought me in here. Unless the you count the voicemail he left on my mobile to say why he didn't come to Simon's funeral!"

"You mean the time you bit me." House had only nudged the landmine with his last comment and his devious mind told him it was either a full explosion or nothing. He didn't believe in middle ground.

"Oh I'm sorry! I apologised to you a dozen times afterwards. What are you going to do? Make me regret it for the rest of my life?"

"I had considered that yes."

"You are so infuriating," Suellen huffed stopping the argument before she completely lost her temper. She'd be really annoyed at herself afterwards if she gave House the satisfaction of sending her into full frenzy.

"You ladies love it."

His teenage patient snorted and exchanged her annoyed expression for one of mixed amusement and repugnance. A comment like that deserved a nasty remark.

"So that explains your outstanding dating record of late- oww!"

House had removed the last stitch on her right hand with a sharp jerk and now received an angry glare. Tiny droplets of blood were rising from the minuscule holes where the skin had previously been sewed together and Suellen brought the wound to her mouth to futilely blow the sting out of it.

"Put that over your hand," House commanded as he threw her a large adhesive strip from a nearby draw and took the other hand in his. With one hand occupied and the other bleeding Suellen removed the plastic backing with her teeth and carefully angled her neck and wrist to apply it correctly.

"The ones you put in my arms popped on their own," she informed House who was going to explain that he'd used the dissolving kind in the smaller cuts when the door behind him opened.

His heart skipped a beat thinking Cuddy had found his hideout but when he turned to see Doctor Cameron smiling radiantly from the doorway his heart rate steadied.

"Close the door!" he snapped with a tone of urgency before focusing his blue eyes back on Suellen's petite hand. When she'd complied with his order House chose interrogation over welcoming.

"What do you want?"

"The lab results came back negative for STDs and toxins," she informed him, her kind expression unwavering. "We can definitely rule out syphilis as a cause."

"Charming," Suellen said dryly with the corner of her mouth rising with twisted amusement.

"You should have paged me," was House's indignant response. "That way you could have at least given me an excuse to leave."

Cameron took a moment to provide a believable cover story. "I thought you might like to know straight away."

Neither doctor nor patient responded to that obvious fabrication. In fact, nobody said anything for close to a minute. Cameron stood there smiling like an air hostess flicking her eyes between House and Suellen indicating she'd like an introduction, House's eyes bore into the handiwork he'd left in Suellen's hand and Suellen, feeling incredible awkward, looked at the roof.

Then after what seemed like an uncomfortable eternity, House caved. Sitting upright again he rotated in his chair so he could see both his employee and his patient at once.

"Doctor Cameron," he pointed the medical scissors at her then flipped them in the opposite direction. "Offspring of Wilson. Offspring of Wilson, Doctor Cameron."

Suellen took a moment to lower her self-esteem metre another a notch before saying hello with a polite smile and nod. Allison Cameron however was not one for small, passing greetings. Besides, she'd just discovered a hidden fact about House's best friend so she had to obtain as much information as possible in this rare opportunity.

"Hello I'm Doctor Cameron," she was suddenly uncomfortably close to the minor and shook her good hand gently. "It's very nice to meet you. So you're James Wilson's daughter? Not the Doctor Wilson in optometry?"

"Don't look so surprised," Suellen said simply after nodding yes. "Promiscuous men usually sow one or two heirs along the way. Though I'm aware that you probably never knew of my existence. Besides Doctor Cuddy and Gregory here most people don't. Oww!"

"I've got a reputation to keep! Call me Doctor House around here or people will think I've gotten soft and cuddly."

_Fat chance_ Suellen thought but aloud said: "Reputation? Oh you mean your bad reputation. Oww! You did that on purpose!"

"My you're perceptive."

As she watched the two bicker like an elderly couple, Cameron tried to get a hold on the current situation. In less than five minutes she'd been introduced to Wilson's secret child who had labelled her own father a slut with an acute consciousness of reality. Not to mention that someone had just called House by his first name, which always sounded abnormal to her.

"Of course I knew about you," she lied slowly breaking through the patient/doctor argument. House and Sullen exchanged a sceptical look before both looking back at the beautiful immunologist.

Cameron once again took Suellen's healing hand into her own and held it tenderly as she displayed a warm smile. Seeing Suellen's wallet partially poking out of her front pocket she saw two letters on a key chain, a capital S and a lower case U.

"You're all he ever talks about! Susan, Susan, Susan," Cameron moved her hand up and down with every repetition of the name. "He's so fond of you!"

"My name in Suellen," came her dull monotone.

"Oh."

House was amused, but he was the only one. While he smiled and chuckled quietly Cameron let go of Suellen who was wearing a very uninspired expression. She tried to compose herself, but after one has a folly like that, it's incredibly hard to recover.

"Thank you for trying to make me feel better," Suellen spared her from saying an embarrassing apology or creating another flimsy cover story. "But you don't have to lie to make me happy, it's really only one step up from lying to yourself to be happy."

"Well," Cameron managed after a moment more of articulate dismay. "You certainly have a few ideas."

Suellen shrugged at that remark and the attending doctor put a second adhesive strip over her opposite hand before telling her to remove her jacket so he could inspect her arms.

"Most of what I say I've read in books," she continued with a mild smile and slipped her arms out of her jacket, "and the rest I just make up."

Cameron couldn't help but smile at that honesty. She had a soft spot of kids, that was no secret, but Suellen didn't strike her as a regular fifteen-year-old. There was a certain manner in her speech that told of maturity and she spoke in such a veracious way it was almost a charm.

"Hate to break up this little Mother's Club meeting," House's voice made both females groan mentally. Criticism from House was like the flu, nobody was totally immune to its effects and it left you reeling really lousy afterwards. "But don't you have a patient to duel Grim Reaper for Doctor Cameron?"

"It was very nice to…"

"Out!" interjected House.

"I'll see you ag…"

"Out, out get out!"

Suellen sent Cameron off with a smile and once she'd gone changed it into a frown then aimed her canons at House.

"You could have handled that differently," she said in a matter of fact tone.

"Probably," House surprised her with his admittance. "But it doesn't mean I had to."

"She's nice," Suellen sighed with defeat and put her jacket back on.

"Yea she's nice," he mumbled in a barely audible voice before jumping back into his regular demanding, condescending tone. "Is there anything else you need to tell me? Something you want to share with your Uncle Greg?"

The teenager smiled at him for a second before giving his question any serious thought then said, "Nothing of great significance. Mum's got me taking some kind of herbal placebo but that's about it."

"What's that supposed to do?" House asked as she jumped nimbly off the table to the floor.

"Who knows?" Suellen's response was almost a whine. "Those marketed herbal pills are all the same crap."

"I love it when you think like me. Makes me so proud."

"Personally it scares me," Suellen admitted with a nervous chuckle and was ready to say goodbye when House cut across.

"But that wasn't what I was asking." House supported himself on his cane as he moved across the room to throw his gloves in the rubbish. "I meant about your friend's funeral."

When he looked back at Suellen he saw that her confident demeanour had faded. She stood firm refusing to look directly at him and knotted her fingers together again and again. Her mouth opened, closed, opened to begin a word then stopped again.

House waited patiently from his position on the opposite side of the room, leaving her plenty of space to gather her thoughts and juggle all of her possible choices.

There was so much going around in Suellen's mind at that moment it was impossible to articulate. Thinking about how she'd known Simon for so long that she couldn't really believe he was gone. How his sister didn't understand that death was permanent, having never so much as experienced the loss of a goldfish in her four years. Then there was the way Martha had unscrupulously made a spectacle of herself at the wake, telling everyone about the devastating impact it had on Suellen and informing all that she too had been through the terror of a sinking ship. Eventually she lifted her head and spoke.

"No there's nothing," she said coldly.

"How did they have the funeral?" House asked the question reasonably gently in one of his quieter tones. "There wasn't a body."

Suellen squeezed her eyelids closed tight attempting to banish the image of Simon's face pallor and lonely sinking slowly with his hair drifting in all directions from the water's pull.

"We all put something in the coffin," she snapped her eyes open again and focused them on her companion to assure herself she wasn't in that terrible place again. "Something that reminded us of him. His school uniform, some CDs he liked, photos, books, stuff like that. I found it pretty hard to find something though. How do you summarise someone's life with a single object?"

House didn't answer the question and felt that he wasn't expected to. Suellen was venting her thoughts more than speaking to him and he saw it ultimately as a win-win situation. His curiosity was satisfied while Suellen partook in a therapeutic process.

"Did you really expect Wilson to show?" he took the conversation on a different tangent before Suellen got too caught up in her recent trauma.

"No," she admitted with far more ease than the previous question and began to collect herself again. "But I really wanted him to be there, and he did say he'd go."

"You knew better," House said bluntly and advanced across the room to her.

"True," Suellen said with a sigh in a voice that hinted she'd conclude the conversation soon. "But I never stopped hoping when he makes a promise. That's why it hurts so much when he lets me down."

"Oh, well, at least he's reliably unreliable," the doctor said in false optimism and ruffled Suellen's hair to deliberately annoy.

"Aren't you just a ray of sunshine," Suellen said sarcastically and battered his hand away. "Though thanks for your help all the same."

She opened the door and House was about to push past when she placed an open palm on his stomach, halting him. He was about to threaten her with his cane when she spoke to someone just outside the door.

"Hello Doctor Cuddy!" she said very loudly and lucidly to give House a clear description of the scenario just outside the door. "How are you? We haven't spoken in a while have we? Well, unless you include that brief encounter the other week ha ha."

Suellen stepped out and closed the door with a firm bang. Saving House from Cuddy's wrath was her way of settling her debt. In her experience, she knew it was dangerous to owe Gregory House a favour.

* * *

"All I'm saying is that it wouldn't hurt if the guy was wrong every once in a while," Foreman said a few days later when their patient was on the road to recovery. "His head can hardly fit through the door."

"If he'd been wrong the patient would be dead," the trio came to a halt so Chase could select a snack from the vending machine. "Are you saying that someone should die just so House can learn a lesson or two?"

"Of course not," Foreman wore an irritated expression as his colleague punched in the code of the chosen sweet. "It's just infuriating to have to put up with a guy who walks around like he's all that."

"That's because most of the time he is," Cameron loyally supported her employer making both men sigh in exasperation. There was nothing nobody could do to prove to her that House was a jerk.

Chase scooped his chocolate bar out of the machine and the three continued their migration back to the office. Foreman turned his head so he could look the immunologist in the eye before he spoke to her.

"Isn't there anything House can do that'll make you realise he's just a narcissistic pig?" he implored.

"He's a good doctor," Cameron defended and Chase pushed open the glass door to the office. "Besides saying what you think doesn't make you a bad person. He's only being honest with people."

"That doesn't stop you from keeping your opinions to yourself," Chase supported Foreman and stepped inside, holding the door open for the other two to follow.

"People need to be told the truth."

The intensivist and neurologist silently surrendered and admitted they were fighting a lost cause. It didn't matter what they said or did to smash her delusions and misconceptions, Cameron would continue to make puppy eyes at House all the same.

"I can't understand how you and Wilson can tolerate him," Chase sat in his chair heavily and ran his fingers over the chocolate wrapper. "The two of you are nothing like House."

"Oh I wouldn't say that."

The voice came from behind and all three doctors turned to see Suellen standing in House's adjoining office holding a bunch of addressed envelopes with a large shoulder bag hanging at her hip. She smiled at the doctors and approached until she came to the connecting doorway, then leaned against the frame.

"Hi Doctor Cameron," she said with a smile to the lady. "What should I do with House's mail? Leave it on his desk to collect dust or put it straight in the shredder?"

"I'll take care of it," she warmly getting out of her seat to take the mail. Once she had it in her hand she turned to the two men looking rather confused.

"This is Suellen," Cameron said gesturing to the shorter girl with an open palm then added, "Wilson's daughter," for extra clarity.

The two doctors were silent for a moment before they both made noises of understanding. They remembered her as the stranger who'd miraculously got House to the clinic and from the stories Cameron had told afterwards. Chase nodded his head and lifted his hand in greeting while Foreman walked over to shake hands.

"I'm Doctor Chase," the blonde said, "I work for Doctor House."

"I'm Doctor Foreman," the neurologist said in an amicable tone as he shook her hand.

"How are your hands today Sue?" Cameron asked too late.

"Better," she said simply ignoring the stinging skin and started to search the bag for more mail.

"That looks bad. What happened?" asked Foreman noticing the serrated red lines running down her palms.

The injury was fresh, the stitching only recently removed by House or so he presumed. The laceration was too atypical to tell what had caused it without further investigation and there was no doubt that the scarring it would leave would be nasty and permanent.

"I was…" Suellen stopped short as the recollection of the injury came vividly to mind.

_Water rushed everywhere furiously as voices screamed hysterically with fear and desperation. Pleading, begging, crying to be heard over the water as her feet tried to hold steady while the corridor rocked and bucked continuously under and all around her. Hearing had become the primary sensory function now with the invading water splashing in her eyes mixing with the tears of frustration. Her hands curled around the side of the door and she pulled and pulled channelling all her strength into her already strained arms. _

_From behind Robyn was calling her name, shouting something in a terrified voice through the roar of the water and the piteous wailing Grant was making from behind the door. With gritted teeth and complete commitment to her task Suellen ignored Robyn, the stubborn element of her character refusing to give up on freeing her friend. The door was jammed, opening only a few centimetres then no further. _

_Grant thumped the door with his fists, his terrified face visible through the glass window in the middle. He gave another scream and a moment later Suellen was slammed against the steel door her mouth and nostrils burning as they filled with salt water. Slipping on the wooden floor she fell flat and the water covered her, throwing her to and fro for a few seconds with its treacherous pull. _

_Gathering her feet beneath her Suellen broke the surface gasping for air and pulled herself up by grabbing the door handle. The invading water was now waist high and Grant was more hysterical inside his prison, beating and kicking on the jammed door. The electric lights above them were fading, flicking on and off between light and darkness and still the freezing water came. _

"_Suellen we gotta go!" she heard Robyn yell from the other end of the corridor. "She's gonna roll!" _

"_Suellen get me out!" Grant's face was pushed against the glass tears running down his face and his skin a dead white. "Please don't leave me here!" _

"_We have to go now!" Robyn was coming up the passageway now holding the wall railing for support. "We can't stay! She's sinking!" _

"_Suellen please! Sue! Suellen!"_

"Sue? Sue? Suellen!"

Her blonde head snapped up to see she wasn't below deck on the sinking Albatross in the cold and dark but in the diagnostics office at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital where it was warm and dry. All three doctors were staring at her with confused worry and Doctor Foreman had been calling her name.

What had happened? One moment she'd been having a pleasant conversation and delivering staff mail then the next she'd been back on the doomed schooner. The memory had felt so real she was certain only moments ago her skin was soaked and that the ocean was trying to kill her.

"Are you all right?" Foreman asked leaning in slightly. "Do you feel ill?"

"No, no," Suellen was quick to reassure him. "I just zoned out for a minute, you know, late night. I cut my hands in an accident, nothing serious."

"Well if you're sure…"

"I am," she said firmly and handed over the mail addressed to him. She was giving Chase his when Doctor House came in the room glowing with conceit and wearing a vindicated smile ready to give a glorified speech about himself.

"Here we go," Foreman grumbled quietly and took his seat at the table.

Luckily for him and unluckily for Suellen, the mail girl's presence in the room changed his target from his employees to his friend's kid.

"Well if it isn't Cuddy's latest employee," his said with false merriment and ruffled her hair so violently Suellen's neck was forced down. "Tell me, do her errands pay more than fast food?"

"Not enough to cover your malpractice suits," she retorted and shoved his hand away roughly but not hard enough to unbalance him.

"So cruel," he pouted and got a response in the form of a closed door, Sue walking out of the office to finish the mail rounds. If she wanted to play games she'd stay home with her siblings.

"Nice kid," Chase said breaking off another part of his chocolate bar. "How come she's working here? Favour to Wilson?"

House walked up to the Australian and snatched the sweet out of his hands, breaking of a section and devouring it with gusto. "Cuddy thought it would be a good idea to keep her busy," he said through a mouthful of food. "And for once I agree. It would be my recommended treatment for someone suffering Post Traumatic Stress."

The three young doctors exchanged sharp questioning glances before all turning to House wide-eyed wanting an explanation.

"Oh right," their mentor said handing the empty wrapper back to Chase. "You didn't hear about that. Gather round kids and I'll give you all the gossip."

* * *

Author's note: Ok that was chapter three, I hope you enjoyed. I know it was a bit uneventful but I had to establish all the central characters before I could move on with the juicer stuff so I threw in a little flashback teaser for spice. With any luck the next chapter will have a bit more substance to it. Please let me know how I'm going and I hope to see so some reviews. Thanks guys! 


	4. Chapter 4

Hey everybody sorry for the long absence. I had a bundle of final assignments to do before end of semester so I didn't have any spare time to work on this fic. Rest assured I haven't abandoned this story yet. Hopefully I'll be able to make better progress once the semester break begins. This chapter is mostly Wilson/Suellen relationship centred but House and his team will have a bigger part in the next instalment. So for now enjoy and leave me a review to tell me you're still reading! Bye now, Hikaru.

* * *

Suellen was glad to be indoors the morning she knocked on the door reading, "James Wilson MD" with "Head of Oncology" below. The bike ride to the hospital in the morning dark had been miserable, the tyres splashing up dirty water as they went through murky puddles and drizzle soaking through her raincoat. Her gloves had proved practically useless for they didn't stop her fingers numbing around the bars or her skin turning a prickly red.

Still sore from the winter cold, her hand holding the recently delivered mail hardly felt the smooth texture of the envelopes while her other hand throbbed from knocking on the door. When no answer came she knocked again causing more pins and needles to shoot through the skin.

Opening the oak door only a fraction, Suellen poked her head around to make for certain that her father wasn't busy with a patient. Seeing no one at the desk she stealthily slipped inside the spacious office and closed the door behind her gently.

Wilson had a very nice office, elegantly designed with matching oak furniture and cushy chairs. Behind the meticulously organised desk was a tall cabinet unit filled with medical books, award trophies and various other material possessions that gave the room a homely atmosphere. The one Suellen liked the most was the model of a sailboat on the very top of the cabinet between two fishing mementos. Sailing was the only hobby she knew of that the two of them shared.

Opposite to the entrance on the far side of the office was a sliding glass door leading to a balcony that provided a picturesque view of the car park. The office also had a few filing cabinets, some low tables and a leather couch, which James Wilson was currently sleeping on.

Suellen put the mail down on his desk and slipped the shoulder bag off before crouching beside the sleeping man. Still dressed in yesterday's clothes his tie hung loosely around his neck with his shirtsleeves were rolled up to his elbow. To rest his messy hair on was one of the hospital pillows, no doubt taken from an empty ward- not from beneath the head of a sleeping patient like House would do.

On the table beside the classic couch were a stack of dirty dishes and an open box of cereal amongst a collection of food wrappers and empty bottles. Twisting her neck to the side Suellen also spotted clothes hanging from the hatstand covered in dry cleaning plastic. She suspected James also had a bag of toiletries stashed somewhere in his milieu but she didn't feel compelled to search for it.

Placing a still cold hand on her father's stomach she rubbed it back and forth gently to rouse him. The action proved useless as Wilson remained in his peaceful slumber but Suellen noticed something else that contributed to her developing theory behind his new sleeping situation.

James wasn't overweight, in fact he was reasonably light for his height and age range, but his wife who considered eating an entire head of lettuce a crime strictly monitored his diet. Julie had the build of a swizzle stick and everything she cooked for husband and self coincided with whichever fad diet she was currently on. That meant fatty, sugar packed fast foods had been eradicated from James' diet for three years, only allowed to delight in them in secrecy.

Therefore when Suellen felt roughly three extra kilos of pudge moving under her hand, she knew a certain number of meals had been spent away from Julie. Not that she could blame him, there is after all only so much steamed asparagus and beans one can take.

"Dad," she said softly and again rubbed his middle. "Dad."

The nerves in Wilson's face twitched as his mind woke up and he rubbed his face before looking directly at Suellen.

"Hey Honey," he said groggily rubbing his face and moving his lower body to sit up. "Is something wrong?"

"No," Suellen spoke softly while she watched her father stretch and listened to his joints crack into place. "It's nearly nine. Don't you have appointments starting soon?"

Wilson groaned and sagged forward. How long had he slept? He couldn't tell. At some stage of the late night or maybe early evening he had closed the final file of a treatment trial report and had crashed on the couch. It would have had to have been sometime after he'd called Julie at least.

"Late night with the paperwork," he said sheepishly to his child sitting on the floor.

"And the cereal," Suellen moved her head in the evidence's direction and Wilson followed the movement to see the remnants of living four days in his office.

He knew then that there was no lie however clever or elaborate that could cover the truth from his daughter. Divorce number three was on its way and Suellen knew it. Once again he'd tried and failed at a personal life leaving him to question his remaining choices in middle life.

"Is it falling apart?" Suellen asked without accusations as Wilson stood up to stretch.

He halted mid motion with his arms above his head to look down at the matching set of eyes. Then pulling his focus away he rotated his neck until it cracked.

"You know," he said without looking at her. "I think it is."

"Your mail's on the desk," the teen said getting off of the floor picking her bag up and headed for the door. However Wilson stopped her with what he said next.

"You don't have an opinion?"

"About what?" Suellen feigned ignorance in order to avoid the subject.

"About Julie and me," Wilson saw through her tactic and persisted with his questioning.

"_Julie and I_," she corrected.

"Ok fine. About Julie and _I_."

Suellen took her hand off of the doorhandle and turned to give Wilson a full view of her unimpressed expression. "I've hated your wife from day one," she said dully. "Anything I tell you is naturally going to be biased."

Wilson took a moment to think that over before deciding what to say next. "I want to hear it anyway," he said finally.

"She treats you like crap Dad."

That ungrounded Wilson for a moment. Truthfully he had expected Suellen to either be emotional and ambivalent about a fiasco as complicated as divorce or vehemently aggressive towards his wife. Instead she'd given a response that was short, straight to the point and impossible to interpret any other way.

Although knowing this, the oncologist attempted to coax a more elaborate response from his daughter's mind.

"So what you're basically saying is that-"

"Dump her," she truncated his verbose speech with a succinct answer. "But then again, it's really your decision now isn't it?"

With that cold statement said Suellen opened the door to finish her mail round. Leaving before she and her father had a fight meant she would still have enough remaining on her fuse to deal with House.

"It's not that simple," Wilson recovered with a smile and spoke to Suellen's back in the same voice kindergarten teachers use to explain to their students why two and two don't make five.

The door closed with a thump and the teenager let out a growl before rounding on the doctor with a nettled expression. The eyes she'd inherited from her father scrunched into a glare and her teeth pressed together tightly as she tried to suppress her temper.

"Yes it is Dad," she said tightly to Wilson. "All you need to do is go home, look Julie in the eye and tell her it's over. Then you hire a lawyer and cut your losses. All you have to do is commit to the idea then go through with it."

James walked over to her and she thought he was going to loom over her to shout the way her mother did to the smaller kids. But instead he went to the hatstand still wearing the small smile from before and shifted his attention to his dry cleaning.

"Ah you have so much to learn about relationships," he said patronisingly in a fond tone. "They're never as simple as you think Suellen."

"Oh stop it!" Suellen let her voice rise and turned her hands to fists. "You're just lying to yourself to justify your procrastination! If you wait long enough, just spend a few more weeks sleeping in here then Julie will beat you to it. You're just dodging the problem!"

"Now wait a minute!" his smile was gone and his voice was unusually stern. An argument was approaching making Wilson shake off the last of sleep to ready himself.

"No don't bother making one of your phoney excuses!" Suellen struck peremptorily. "I know you Dad, you can't commit to anything! You're three divorces down in the half-light of life with one kid and a single friend! The reason you're a doctor is because it only provides ephemeral relationships with people!"

Wilson took one hand from his hip to make a sharp, impatient gesture with an open hand. "What are you talking about?" he asked clearly annoyed.

His daughter took a deep breath before continuing. She was getting loud now but was still holding back from going into full-blown hysteria.

"You meet a patient, then a some time later they're either recovered or dead. You have such a caring, committed and devoted relationship with them only because you know that it isn't going to last. Once they go you never have to deal with them again- a perfect relationship without the strings. Push it away and bring the next one in like a conveyer belt."

The room fell into a silence once she'd stopped speaking, the two of them remaining a small distance apart but held the eye contact. While the daughter waited for whatever repercussions were to come the father turned over what she'd just told him in his mind.

His immediate thought was that Suellen was talking nonsense- that she was just being a typical teenager trying to sound as though she comprehended more than she did. However there was something stopping Wilson from immediately condemning her words. It wasn't that it was true, that couldn't be it, but there had to be a reason why Suellen would tell him such a thing. It wasn't like her to lie.

"I know you don't get along with Julie but this is…"

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Suellen shook her head making a blonde whirlwind and shouted the last word. His attempt to turn the blame onto her was rapidly sapping her of patience. "Don't turn this around onto me! That is the truth and you can't deflect it to carry on your delusions! Make a choice and stick with it!"

The door opened so fast a gust of wind made the hanging clothes flap and sway for a second then slammed shut despite Wilson calling, "Wait."

Wilson continued to stand there now alone in his office with one hand still resting on hip to display his dissatisfaction. Suellen had always been hard to handle, rebellious and opinionated with a nasty temper to boot. He'd lost count of how many times Martha had rung him to report that his daughter was again disobeying her. It was funny how ownership was passed between them depending on Suellen's attitude.

But there was nothing amusing here. His fifteen year old had no qualms in shouting him down with degradations and defaming his work and he had no idea how to enforce a punishment. Once upon a time he would have sat her on the naughty chair but those days were long gone. Martha had used a wooden spoon but from what he'd heard the last time she'd used that tactic it had broke on her forearm with Suellen giving her mother an insolent look.

Forgetting about dressing for the time being Wilson went and sat in his chair making it creak as he lent back and rubbed his face. He was at a loss and Suellen knew she had victory.

He shook his head a moment later and began planning out his workday with his schedular. The problem with Suellen could wait until later and he told himself not to take what she'd said too seriously.

He was making a big mistake.

* * *

In the nearly empty cinema waiting for the previews to start, a boy sat next to his friend and her little sister who was sitting on her lap to save paying for another ticket. He had snowflakes on his puffy jacket and in his black hair and his left foot hurt from having dropped a large bio-waste container on it

"You owe me big," the tall boy obviously of Mediterranean decent snapped shaking one of his olive coloured fingers at his friend. "I could have pricked myself with a lethal drug from one of those old syringes."

"Tony," Suellen rolled her eyes at her easily manipulated friend. "The lids were on tightly. You weren't in any immediate danger I assure you. If you had been I would have hung around to watch and laugh."

"That's not nice," the Greek said pouting and displeased with Suellen's failure to take his complaints seriously. "The needles could have poked out the side or something."

His school friend wasn't in the mood to carry on with this so she cut him off quickly. "Well I'm sure that if you had been stabbed with a needle that had penetrated six inches of solid plastic and pierced your skin sooner or later you'd have pricked yourself with the antidote sticking out of another container."

Tony Karageorge's agitation rose like quills on a provoked porcupine. When his primary school friend had rung last night to invite him to a movie with her and little Elizabeth he had jumped at the offer. The only time he'd seen Suellen since she got back from the Albatross was at Simon's funeral and he wanted to make sure she was handling everything ok.

However when he'd met her outside her house earlier that morning he hadn't expected to end up at Princeton Plainsboro Teaching Hospital to move full bio-waste bins outside in the freezing cold for collection.

"You said we were going to a movie," he sulked and crossed his big arms.

"We are," Suellen gestured around at the dark cinema while Elizabeth played with a stuffed animal toy. "We just had to finish something before we got here."

"What do you mean 'we'?" Tony said nastily careful not to swear in front of the kindergarten student. "I'm not the one who works there. It should have been you lugging those heavy things in and out of the building! I'm not being paid for it!"

"Oh stop your whingeing!" Suellen decided that she'd had enough of his petulant behaviour. "I paid for your ticket and your popcorn so just shut up already. Geez! Elizabeth is behaving better than you're a decade older than her."

"Am I a good girl?" the blonde child asked looking up at her older half sister.

"Yes you are," Suellen's tone became warmer as she smiled down at the one sitting in her lap.

The two teens ate a few mouthfuls out of the large popcorn container staring at the blank screen and wondered how much longer they'd have to wait for the movie to begin. Checking his watch Tony saw they had still a little while to wait so picked up the thread of conversation again.

"So how's things with your Dad?" he asked is a light tone out of caution. This was a touchy topic so he was extra careful when approaching it.

The handful of popcorn close to Suellen's mouth stopped at her lips before she lowered it away from her face. Very slowly she twisted her neck so she could look her friend square in the face. "What do you mean?"

"Well," Tony spoke in an innocent voice to avoid accusations for prying. "Since you're working together I guess that means you're seeing each other a lot more."

"So?" his friend raised a thin blonde eyebrow and waited to hear what he was really getting at. She predicted that she wasn't going to take what he was going to say very well.

"Maybe you'll be able to talk things out," Tony suggested meekly and sank in his seat. His grandfather had always told him that the lower you lay in the trench, the less likely the shrapnel is to hit you.

"Doubt it," Suellen sighed hopelessly much to Tony's relief and ate the popcorn she was holding.

"Things still not great?" the Greek teen asked sympathetically and dug some more popcorn out of the bucket sitting in his lap.

Suellen opened Elizabeth's bag of lollies and warned her not to eat them all at once before she answered her companion. "Suppose you could put it that way. We can't seem to have a single conversation that doesn't end as an argument or he doesn't run away from."

"Wonder why," Tony muttered aside but unfortunately for him the cinema was only seating about a dozen people so his friend could hear everything he said very clearly.

"Pardon me?" she said loudly with indignation and Tony pulled an expression of mixed guilt and panic. Fortunately for him though the door to the cinema up back opened and their expected arrival appeared.

"Shu Lien!" Tony got to his feet quickly holding the popcorn to his chest with one arm and used the other to wave to the extremely pretty Chinese girl scanning the theatre for them.

"Hey!" Shu Lien said with a bright smile once she got to them and began a short series of greetings. Once settled in the stain covered chair next to Tony with her snacks she moved to get conversation back on track. "So what's going on?"

"Tony here just insinuated that I have a penchant for causing disputes between my father and I," Suellen wasn't prepared to let the boy off he hook so easily.

"Not surprised," Shu Lien said jovially and flicked her long jet black hair over her shoulders. "He only takes his foot out of his mouth to put the other one in."

Both girls laughed at Tony's insulted expression until Suellen stopped abruptly when she realised Elizabeth was about to fall off her lap.

"I take exception to that!" Tony snapped over Shu Lien's muffled chuckling, "and I demand to know what insinuate means!"

"Implies," the Chinese emigrant explained having finished laughing and slipped her drink into the side cup holder. "And I'll give you your due Tony. For once you're actually right."

"Shu Lien!"

"Thankyou!" Tony cried strongly slapping his knee and feeling powerfully vindicated. It wasn't often that someone agreed with him so he soaked up all he could in those next few moments.

"Sorry Sue," the gorgeous girl said leaning forward to talk around Tony. "But you do have a problem with your temper. It's got you into trouble on more than one occasion and you're quick to bite."

At the verb bite Suellen stopped her rebuttal as she recollected sinking her teeth into Dr House's wrist. A sick feeling stirred in her stomach when she thought back to that. It was hard to believe that had only been three weeks ago. That meant Simon had been dead since then. Three weeks, two days and ten hours.

That was how long the world had gone without Simon, Grant, Leigh, Roland, Mrs Sheldon and Mr Du Pre. That was how long their parents had gone without their children. It was exactly how long Skipper had gone without his wife and how long three small children had gone without their father. She'd been back home in her old bed for that long too. What had she done with the time? Not much really.

How would they have spent three weeks, two days and ten hours if they had survived? Would they have done more with there time? Would they be more grateful? If they have lived would that mean that she would have died?

Suellen shuddered at that thought and tried to push it out of her mind. She'd invited her friends out to the movies to have fun and forget, not to brood on the horror of her recent past. The dreams were bad enough.

"That's not true!" she snapped vehemently to their accusations but the minute she let it slip off of her tongue she knew she'd buried herself.

Tony and Shu Lien exchanged a look then turned back to the blonde with a unified, "Oh?"

"Name one time!" she challenged her plucky friends.

"Kicking Thomas Jenks in the balls."

"Bashing Ray Iovine's teeth out with a telephone unit."

"Telling Mr Toussaint he wouldn't know what quality literature was if it bit him in the arse."

"Sawing the heels off your stepmother's high heel collection and cutting the left side of your father's shoelaces off."

"Writing nasty messages on a car windscreen with lipstick."

"Swapping your mother's spearmint toothpaste with a tube of wasabi."

"Wiping the speed dials off your stepfather's mobile phone and replacing them with direct numbers to the city morgue and insane asylum."

"Throwing marbles onto the court during a school basketball match so everyone fell over."

"Giving your stepmother's clothes away to the homeless."

"Removing all the bolts from the furniture in the school's staff room."

"Putting food colourings into your mum's moisturiser so her skin went blue."

"Cutting off half of Ainslie Page's hair as she slept at grade six camp."

"Hey! Hey! Hey!" Suellen yelled the other two down to stop them. By the sound of them they had a lot more to list and she wanted to cut them off before they reached the ones she couldn't defend herself against. "I asked for one not an anthology! And every one of those was justified."

"All of them Sue?" the other girl asked sceptically and Tony rested his chin on his palm waiting for her excuses. "I can't recollect you ever telling us why you wrote 'This is not an effing parking space' on that BMW at the hospital. Except you didn't write effing of course, I'm just toning it down for the baby's sake."

It took a few moments for Suellen to think about that before she mumbled weakly, "I hate it when people double park. It's very inconsiderate."

Her companions made a theatrical scene of scoffing and showing their incredulity at that last statement. Suellen had a short temper, but she'd never done anything hot headed just because of an illegal parking manoeuvre.

"Oh come on," Tony only ever had the upper hand in an argument once in a blue moon so he was making the most of it while is lasted. "Tell the truth Wilson."

"The guy who drove it fired my Dad because he supported Doctor House on the Hospital Board. This guy, Vogler, tried to ruin Dad just to execute his revenge on House. He was really upset. He likes his job. Says it's one of only two things he has going for him."

The two teenagers were quiet for a minute and looked at each other with matching expressions of surprise. That had been the very last thing they would have suspected to be Suellen's motivation for vandalism. Usually she sought revenge to settle personal scores with her parents or because someone had just plainly pissed her off. Except of course for Thomas Jenks and Ray Iovine-they'd groped her so they deserved everything they got exactly like she'd said.

"Well I guess that's sweet in a malicious, vindictive kind of a way," Shu Lien said slowly breaking the long silence. "Does he know you did it?"

"No," she answered brushing some of her sister's blonde hair behind her eyes and began to play with her toy.

"You should really talk to him," Tony said. "The next time you see him tell him you're sorry and stuff."

"Me!" Suellen yelled so loudly that everyone in the cinema turned and looked in their direction. "He started it! You should have heard him Tony. Bloody asking for my opinion then patronising me! He lies to everyone about who he is then worse to himself!"

"Doesn't matter," Tony shook his head slowly and spoke with the upmost patience. "Make amends first then explain to him why you're unhappy with him. There may be more to his story than just what you see. Talk to him and find out."

Suellen's brown eyes were round with amazement and her face wore a shocked facial cast. Leaning forward in her seat she met Shu Lien's gaze who was wearing the very same expression.

"I never knew you were so deep Tony," she said once she'd recovered the ability to speak again.

"See what talking to people can bring to your perspective?" he said philosophically. "Besides, I'm Greek. Wisdom and teaching are innate qualities."

Shu Lien bobbed her elegant head in agreement with her friend. "Unbelievably Tony is right. It's worth a shot Suellen. He's your father-you'll only ever have one and there's only one of you. Are petty arguments really worth spending your life arguing over?"

With her friends' advice resting heavily on her shoulders, Suellen lent back in her chair and the lights around them began fading. The movie was about to begin so she took the next few moments to remind Elizabeth that when you're in a cinema you're not allowed to talk.

Contemplating heavily she scooped another handful of popcorn out of the carton and devoured it without decorum. Maybe Tony and Shu Lien were right, they usually were about her temper. However, she was still convinced that she had not been the one at fault.

* * *

A loud rapping on the door scared James Wilson out of his sleep so violently he nearly fell off of his office couch. Taking a deep breath he scanned the room quickly and was immediately reminded where he was.

"I have a job," he said stupidly and pushing his legs off of the couch sat up to rub his face. The knocking came again and he called out for them to wait a second.

Still in yesterday's clothes he was all sweaty with last night's take-out slopped down the front of his shirt. His tie was hanging off of his desk chair and his top few buttons were open exposing part of his chest.

Catching his refection in the glass balcony door he declared he looked hideous with his hair everywhere and thick dark rings under his eyes. Shaving and brushing his teeth would have to be done before his appointments started. When was that? He didn't know. After living in his office for an entire week time had ceased to be a fixed construct.

Grumbling and rubbing the lines out of his tired face he staggered to the door expecting House to be standing there rotating his cane with a thousand snark remarks ready to mock his current lifestyle. But it wasn't House standing there-it was Suellen.

Wilson couldn't have been more surprised if it had been Cameron standing there in her underwear with a beauty pageant sash around her. He'd always believed that Suellen intentionally avoided him, yet here she was standing before him holding a large paper bag in one hand, two bottles of juice in the other and a newspaper tucked between her elbow and ribcage.

"Hey," she said awkwardly with a wonky smile.

"Hey," Wilson repeated more easily but with more surprised. "What's going on? Do you need something?"

"No," she said softly and avoided eye contact, focusing her brown eyes on her father's socks. "I thought you might like some company for breakfast for a change. I brought you today's paper."

Wilson didn't say anything for a minute only blinked, partially to remove the gunk from his eyelids but mostly out of shock. He had a strange suspicion that this was probably a dream but the food in the bag smelt too good to be imaginary. Only when Suellen cautiously raised her head to see his expression did he realise just how long he'd been standing there in silence.

"Yea, yea," he said hurriedly and moved out of the doorway to let her in. "Come in Honey, this is really nice of you. What did you bring?"

"Muffins," she said sitting down in the chair on the patient side of the desk. "You like orange juice don't you?"

"Sure do," her father replied and dug into the bag to retrieve his breakfast once he was seated.

Suellen took one for herself and split it in half to let the warm air out of it. Tony could do some pretty idiotic things sometimes but that didn't make him an idiot. Also, Shu Lien had backed him up so his advice might be worth something after all. It was worth giving it a shot.


	5. Chapter 5

'This is terrible' thought Suellen as she sat across from her father in the early morning eating reheated muffins and drank from juice bottles.

They were on their second muffin each and had sat in silence for nearly ten minutes deliberately avoiding eye contact. How the hell was she meant to discuss her issues with him if she couldn't even manage polite breakfast conversation? Still, Suellen told herself not to give up as she took another bite from her strawberry muffin. She'd made the first move and the rest was sure to follow.

'This is terrible' Wilson thought screwing the top of his juice off. As glad as he was to be having a meal with his only child and avoiding another McDonald's breakfast, he couldn't think of single thing to say to her. Conversation had never been this hard with anyone else he knew but when it came to talking to Suellen it was like trying to talk to someone through the Berlin Wall.

"So," he said slowly catching the girl's attention and searched for a thread of conversation. "Where did you get these muffins? They're good."

'Muffins. Of all things I'm sitting here talking about muffins. Well done James.'

"Alex made them," Suellen jumped at the question with enthusiasm, ecstatic that there was now an opportunity to talk. "He's in The Blues at the minute so he's made enough food for a community bake off. If you're interested in a quiche let me know, he made about twelve and now we need to give them away."

Whenever Suellen's younger brother cycled into a depressed stage she'd appropriately nicknamed 'The Blues' he would work through his problems over a mixing bowl cooking enough for a feast of forty. Nobody could explain what the correlation between his condition and cooking was, but it kept him busy and somehow seemed to pull him into a happier mood so nobody questioned it.

"Why quiche?" James asked with a slight frown.

Suellen shrugged and dusted the crumbs from her fingers onto a napkin. "Who knows? Guess because we had a lot of eggs. He made a really mean Peking duck too if that appeals to you more. There was also a Devil's Food Chocolate Cake but he wanted me to give that to Greg's team."

That brightened James' mood a bit, not enough to erase the pressure of the situation but enough to make him smile. Sometimes there was no greater mood lifter than stories of Alexander King.

"How is Alex anyway?" he asked happily and gluttonously began his third muffin.

The teenager made a series of facial expressions in the moments of silence it took her to try to produce an answer for that question. Any query about her brother was not answered without difficulty. Eventually she found the best response she could and spoke.

"If I told you that Alexander is Alexander would you know what I mean?" she leant over the desk a bit with a slight pleading expression.

Wilson thought about that for a minute then responded, "Yea I would," after he considered everything he knew about his daughter's half-brother. Then not wanting to loose the successful conversation thread he asked another question on the same subject. "Any problems with him lately?"

Suellen stopped chewing momentarily when she heard that then swallowed her mouthful to respond with a pensive expression.

"You know," she said in a matter of fact tone, "I have had some trouble with him this past fortnight. He was a bit unstable for a while, just on and off though, nothing unusual but a few nights ago he spun into a shocking state. Took me ages to calm him down."

That perked her father's interest significantly. His eyebrows rose and he sat up straighter in his seat into an officious position. "What happened?"

"It was about his meds," Suellen explained simply. Talking about someone else gave her more confidence because there was no friction between she and James now like when they tried to talk about themselves. "He thinks that someone is stealing them from him."

"Do you think he's right?"

"Yea I do," she said with a nod of her head. "He's been medicated long enough to know how much should be left after how long, when he needs a refill and so on. Mum said he was just imagining things and well, you can imagine how that went."

Suellen held her hands up in despair and sagged in the leather chair. Across from her James nodded with mutual understanding and mentally sighed at the imagined scenario in his mind. His first wife loved to be right-no matter what you were talking about- and she'd argue her opinion until the opponent was sick of her and gave in. That's why he was never surprised when he heard that she and Suellen had argued. He'd been in that situation long enough to know Suellen had probably been the innocent one.

"So I persuaded him that some drop-kick at his school is nabbing them thinking they can get high off them. Nothing to worry about."

"That's probably it," Wilson agreed much to her delight. Finding another conversation in her last statement he managed to keep the ball rolling by asking, "So are you going back to school?"

That question annoyed Suellen but she fought down the angry response rising in her throat. She'd already been over that topic with him before, but once again James had forgotten it. Probably shuffled to the bottom of his importance pile like everything else she'd ever told him. Prepared to tell him exactly how much that annoyed her she opened her mouth to say something nasty when her friends' preaching came back to mind.

Control your temper.

She closed her mouth, took a deep breath then opened it again to say something more pleasant.

"Nope," she said with forced cool. "Mum's making me finish the correspondence course I started on the Albatross remember? Said she paid for it so I have to finish it. I told you about this." She stressed the word _remember_ pointedly but to no avail since Wilson missed the hint.

"That's right," he said flippantly and ran his fingers through his unruly hair and scratched his scalp.

'Yea that's right. Keep smiling simpleton it's not like it you should be involved or anything' Suellen thought with nasty sarcasm before she ordered herself to stop it. She was making progress and it would be disastrous to send it all down the toilet now.

"Besides," she kept talking to stop the brooding thoughts threatening to surface. "It's Christmas break right now and there wont be much point starting up in January since I'll be moving to Boston in a little while."

"Oh yea," Wilson said remembering the upcoming change in Suellen's living arrangements. Her stepfather Bill had managed to impress the big company bosses in Boston when he and family went there in July and had received a promotion there. He'd be starting in a month or so from now.

'Oh yea,' Suellen unkindly mimicked in her mind but once again didn't rise to the bait and resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

"Are you looking forward to Boston?"

"About as much as a hole in the head," she answered before she could stop herself. Looking up and seeing James' expression she realised she'd spoken that aloud and hastily rose her hands to prevent him from saying something.

"Wait, I can rephrase that," she said quickly and tried to think of a better response. "What I mean to say is, er, um…"

"Exactly that," Wilson supplied with a sombre expression.

Suellen let her hands fall and shrugged with a defeatist attitude. "Pretty much. No point getting all hung up about it though, I can't do anything to change it."

"You like it here though don't you?" Wilson started to pull out the truth with the light interrogation tactics of a psychologist.

"I guess," she mumbled through her fingers. Suellen was now resting her chin on her hand with her elbow on the desk. "I like my friends and my school. I've worked myself into a niche. Maybe what really bugs me about moving is that it stops me from doing what I want without any hassles. Like visiting Tony and such."

"Or maybe because it's not your decision?"

"Maybe," Suellen agreed bobbing her head from side to side with thought. "Or maybe I just miss Simon. I don't know any more."

She sighed at that last bit and didn't say anything else but Wilson moved quickly to stop her from brooding on that subject too long. He'd counselled dozens of people through the loss of their spouses and friends in his line of work but this situation was somewhat different from terminal cancer. Simon and the other crewmembers had died in a freak storm, there was no reasoning he could give for that.

"And we wont be able to see each other much," he pushed on with the subject of moving which did succeed in changing Suellen's mood, but not in the way he intended.

Instead of appearing baleful and muddled she lifted her face from her hand with a look of twisted amusement. "How does that change from the now?" she asked, a thin smile pulling at her lips and a slight laugh on her voice.

That last statement threw Wilson. It wasn't rude, slightly impudent yes and certainly bold but what she'd said was truly nothing startling. What had got to him was the manner in which Suellen had said it so casually- there was even a hint of a challenge in her voice. Maybe she was mocking him, she'd done that plenty of times before.

"Well if you go to Boston we wont see each other very often and…"

"We don't see each other now!" Suellen cried in a high voice but she wasn't angry, only amused at her parent's short view. "In the past five years we've seen each other how many times? Around two dozen? I know you're wrapped up in the Julie situation right now but I've got to tell you Dad, we're not doing so great either."

"That's unfair," Wilson said fiercely with a stiff expression. "You know as well as I do…"

Suellen made a strange noise like, "da da da," and shook her right index finger to halt him. "We're not playing the blaming game so you don't have to shoot excuses at me. I'm just stating the facts here. All I'm saying is that we don't exactly spend our Saturdays on a park hill flying a kite eating a packed lunch."

Wilson was trying to think of something to say to that when the door opened and diverted their attention.

"Aww breakfast with the little one. Wait here and I'll go get my camera. You two are so cute together, a perfect Kodak moment."

"What do you want Greg?" Suellen groaned in a dreary voice. House's arrival had diminished her mood more than the black storm clouds building out the window. She'd been this close to getting somewhere and he had to come barging through the door.

House hobbled across the room until he was standing right beside her. Looming high above her spot in the leather chair she shrunk down expecting a harsh punishment. Nothing happened for a time then-slam!

The misanthropic doctor had slammed his open hand down on her blonde head forcing her neck down so hard her chin was level with her shoulders.

"Kids today," he said with performed affection. Smiling at the horrified Wilson he moved his hand all over her head to ruffle her hair the way she hated. "They have no respect for their elders do they? But isn't she so adorable? Has her own opinions and everything. She can talk and talk back. Truly your greatest accomplishment Jimmy."

"Stop that House," Wilson told him with a disapproving look as Suellen scratched at House's jacket sleeve to fight back. "You're hurting her."

"Oh nonsense," House dismissed that comment and shook the skull in his hand more violently. "Kids are resilient, she'll bounce right back."

"Not with a C4 fracture," the oncologist contradicted and now standing reached over his desk to separate the two.

House moved away and with a smug smile watched Suellen put her hair back into place with an angry expression peeking through the blonde mess covering her face.

"Jerk," she muttered. Suellen had much stronger names in her vocabulary than that but she was still entertaining that 'Control your temper' thing and Wilson was just fatherly enough to punish cursing.

"That's what you get for not bringing me breakfast after you use my office microwave," he said still smiling evilly and took her orange juice before she could pull it out of his reach.

Suellen watched through angry slits as the damaged doctor drank her breakfast beverage in three greedy gulps before throwing it back at her. House had aimed the bottle to hit her cleavage but the enraged teen caught in deftly with a swing of her right arm then pulled it back to return it.

Wilson pulled it out of her hand from behind before she could throw it and tossed the empty container in the bin. "Don't be so puerile," he said wearily.

"See now, listen to your father," House told the angry teenager who was ready to launch herself at him. The only thing holding her back was how it would sound to people later if they heard she'd beat up a guy with a cane.

"I meant you," Wilson shot at his friend which was quickly followed by a victorious "Ha!" from his child.

Knowing that whatever he had come to say wouldn't be discussed while he was taking profuse pleasure in warring with Suellen, Wilson passed what remained of his orange juice to her as compensation and pulled his toiletry bag out from the side cupboard. Whatever House had to tell him he could say it while he shaved in the bathroom.

* * *

"Merry Christmas my non-Christian friend," House poured a generous amount of scotch into Wilson's mug as he sat comfortably in his office chair, his cane lying on the desk in front of him.

"Thanks agnostic," the Jewish oncologist raised his coffee mug to his companion before drinking deeply. It was one of happiest days of the year (or so the commercial companies liked to claim) but he felt lousy sitting with the hated diagnostician in a dark office drinking booze from a chipped mug.

"Here's to the New Year. No house, no kid and no wife. Not a very positive outlook is it?" House asked holding his glass up theatrically as if toasting royalty.

"I have a wife and kid," Wilson argued halting his drink mid way.

House snorted and turned back to smile incredulously at his friend. "Julie's fax seemed pretty clear," he retorted and reached for the bottle again. "And I didn't see you leaving early to be home with the girl for Christmas day."

"Sue's Jewish too genius," the younger man responded with annoyance. "And what about you? Do you honestly mean to tell me that you chose to work a double shift today out of the good Christmas spirit? I thought Cameron invited you to Christmas dinner with her family."

House swallowed his second shot of liquor and squeezed his eyes shut as the liquid hit his stomach. When he'd recovered he opened his sky blue eyes to look over at his friend. "I don't meet parents," he said simply and closed the subject.

Wilson muttered something inaudible into his mug before finishing his drink. He'd spent most of the holiday in his office finishing paper work and tying up loose ends before the end of the year. He'd also spent four hours in the clinic to meet his weekly quota, most of the time fixing burns from overcooked turkeys and small toy related mishaps. When he returned to his office he'd found a fax waiting for him on the printer.

Julie had had enough and it was now up to him to make the final choice. Everything had happened just like Suellen had said it would-not that he'd ever give her the satisfaction of knowing it.

"So what do you plan to do?" House asked pointedly watching for the slightest reaction.

"Well," Wilson began with a sigh and turned the mug around in his fingers. "I could go home, apologise and try to work it all out or," he paused to take a deep breath, "I could end it all now like Julie suggested."

"Which will it be?"

"I don't know," Wilson snapped frowning. "I haven't figured that out yet. I had hoped that this marriage would work out when I got married you know."

House clicked his fingers and wore a counterfeit smile that only furthered Wilson's chagrin. "So that's why you didn't cheat this time! Oh I knew you were up to something with the whole fidelity thing. Very clever."

Wilson got up out his seat and grabbed his brown overcoat off the back of it. House watched him put it on and heard him say, "I'm going now. Maybe I'll see you later."

House picked up the connotation in that sentence telling him, "I'm home at ten and opening the bar at ten-fifteen," as he reached the door.

Letting the door fall closed on its own Wilson adjusted his collar and headed for the lift, punching the button for the garage once inside. A few minutes later he flicked the central locking button for his car and turned the heater up close to full. In the boot were his clothes and essentials bag from his office but whether he would be taking them home or to Greg's still remained unseen. First he had to think.

The early evening streets were practically deserted as almost everyone was at home with family engagements and the local businesses closed. The light from the street lamps made the wet road glisten brightly and cast shadows through the car as Wilson drove. His eyes paid close attention to the road, darting here and there to catch everything but his mind was in a complete jumble. He had a huge decision to make and had no idea where to even begin.

He drove without direction or intention for a while, just cruising through the central business district but after a while-he wasn't sure how long-he turned in the direction of the suburbs.

Soon the scenery changed from neon signs and tall buildings to quaint homes covered in twinkling Christmas lights with festive ornaments decorating the front yards. Pulling up into the Kings' driveway he saw that their decorations were far tamer with only a tree showing in the window and small lights running along the guttering.

Turning the engine off he slid out of the car and locked it behind him. Cautiously but quickly he walked up the slippery steps of the house and rang the doorbell. Small clouds of mist were created on his exhale and he put his large hands deep in his pockets to keep them warm.

A few moments passed before he heard movement inside and a shadow appeared at the safety glass. The door opened slowly at first so the person behind could take a cautious peek to see whom the visitor was before it opened all the way.

Suellen stood there puffy eyed with messy hair dressed in comfortable clothes and slippers.

"Merry Christmas fellow lonely Jew," she said with a smile and let him in.

"I'm not interrupting anything am I?" Wilson asked taking a good look around the entrance and listened for the sounds of other family members.

"Nope," Suellen yawned and covered her mouth with her hand. "I was just having a nap. Everyone is out at the moment so I'm enjoying a rare moment of silence."

"Bliss," he agreed then asked, "Where'd they go?"

"To Bill's parent's for Christmas dinner," she answered and ushered him towards the living room. "I was finally able to get some stuff finished for my course, do you know how hard it is to analyse newspaper articles with a toddler running around?"

"I can sympathise," Wilson agreed when he recalled the numerous times House had barged into his office uninvited during a very important consultation or phone call. "You didn't go?"

Suellen sat on the arm of the patched couch opposite the television and stretched out her legs, rotating her ankles until they cracked. "I was invited this year," she said nonchalantly, "but it was only after Bill rang them back and abused them for not inviting me in the first place. So I didn't think to bother if that was their attitude."

"Do something to piss them off?" Wilson asked flatly. The day's events hadn't exactly put him in the mood for tactile questioning or delicate conversation.

"What are you saying?" the blonde asked slowly with a cocky smile which Wilson returned. However much trauma and embarrassment his daughter's antics put him through, he had to admit some of the stuff she did was pretty bloody funny.

"But I know what you mean," she continued after a moment, "and the answer's no. Other than a few comments here and there I've behaved myself rather well in their presence. They just consider me as 'the other child' so I don't bother with the stiffs. They call Mum 'Used Goods' behind her back because she married you first you know."

That cheered Wilson up immensely and for the first time in a long time he allowed himself to laugh delighting in a rare moment of cheer. Martha was always riding him about some triviality or old grudge so hearing that someone else was digging their oars into her really improved his mood.

"I'm feeling a little fluy anyway," Suellen continued when he'd recovered and brushed her unruly hair from her face.

"Oh yea?" James asked changing his tone and confidently approached her. He was in his element now and his self-assurance was returning. Ever since he'd entered his ex-wife's home he'd felt awkward and restless. You couldn't have imagined the relief he felt when he was told she wasn't home.

"Your glands aren't swollen," he said officiously as he felt her throat making Suellen pull away and cry "Cold!" from his icy fingertips. "You're a little warm though," he discovered when he touched her forehead, "and a bit pale. Tilt your head back and say 'ah'."

"Ah!" Suellen obeyed and tipped her head back so the ceiling light illuminated her throat.

"Tonsils look fine and no redness," Wilson concluded. "Any coughing or runny nose?"

The patient shook her head then said, "Just a little tired. Probably the weather or the kids have brought home something from daycare. Say, are you hungry? We've got some leftover turkey in the freezer from Thanksgiving I was going to use to make a sandwich for tea."

"Actually," Wilson began to look unsure again and put his hands back in his pockets to stop any fidgeting. "I was thinking maybe we could go get something to eat if you're interested."

Suellen couldn't hide her surprise at that request. Her father voluntarily wanting to spend time with her was far from normal. When she was a kid James' idea of an outing was a trip to the grocery store before dropping her home.

"Ok," she said still rather stunned. To turn down this rare opportunity would be like slapping him in the face. He was making an attempt, albeit a rather delayed one, but she should entertain it all the same. "Let me get changed."

Wilson went back to loitering by the front door as Suellen got ready upstairs, the random articles of family life scattered all over house only reminded him of his nuptial failure. Nearby cardboard boxes filled with possessions were stacked up along the wall, marked and ready to go to Boston. A few minutes later Suellen returned in jeans and a thick jacket and they hurried to the warmth of the car.

"Think anywhere will be open?" she asked warming her scarred palms over the heating vent as James backed out onto the road.

"I saw some places back near town," he replied and turned the headlights on high to illuminate more of the road ahead of them.

After nearly half an hour of driving around searching they found a corner diner promoting cheap Christmas dinners on the window in red and green paint. Not much had been said driving the drive, only a banal comment here and there but Wilson had found her presence comforting still. Suellen was crafty but she didn't have hidden motives like House.

"What'll it be?" the large waitress asked unpassionately after they'd had adequate time to choose from the menu.

"Is this a green salad?" Wilson asked cordially pointing to the print on the laminated menu.

"What other colour would it be genius?" she snapped at him with a piercing glare through her thick glasses.

Wilson recoiled at that verbal bashing but Suellen did the opposite, rising to the challenge. "I see you have a certain immunity to the Christmas cheer," she said lowering her menu slowly and warming up for a shoot out.

The pressure of a sensible black lace-up shoe on her toes stopped her though and she quickly ordered a roast special with a lemonade, never breaking contact with the unsavoury waitress until she returned to the kitchen.

"Don't start," the patriarch warned with a raised index finger.

"Don't back down," the child preached. "Stand up for yourself. If you let people treat you like dirt then they'll really think you are dirt."

"I'll keep that in mind," he lied rolling his eyes.

An awkward stretch followed with no conversation to be had. Suellen re-read the specials menu on the table and played with the cutlery set out before her, rocking the fork and spoon back and forth. Wilson occupied himself by observing the other customers dining, mostly a few singles musing over their dinners and a couple of other single parents eating with their children.

"So," he perked Suellen's interest and unsuccessfully tried to think of something to say. "So."

"A needle puling thread. La a note to follow so," she sang quietly bopping her head from side to side. Sometimes she found with difficult situations the only thing to do was joke about it.

A smile started at the side of Wilson's mouth despite himself and he absently thanked the waitress delivering the food. It was a different lady this time so he was spared the struggle of maintaining the peace.

"What's Julie doing tonight?" Suellen asked absently raising her glass to take a sip. "Doesn't she usually hold some sort of a social event on annual occasions?"

"Look," Wilson blurted out quickly. Her inattentive question had broken the dam restraining his current thoughts and emotions allowing him to be totally honest. Reaching across the table he put his large masculine hand over her growing one. Her skin was still rough and dry from handling rigging and swabbing decks- the hands of a labourer while his were delicate and highly maintained for the vital need of surgery.

Lemonade went stagnant in Suellen's mouth causing her cheeks to puff out. The act of physical contact had totally bewildered her and she flicked her eyes up to meet his and receive an answer. Besides the occasional maladroit hug and the recent manhandling at the hospital, the two had an unofficial no touching policy on their relationship.

"I need you to talk," Wilson continued slowly in a shaky voice and squeezed her hand. "About anything, anything at all. I don't care what you say but just talk. I really need you to talk to me until I can figure out what to do."

Suellen forcefully swallowed the lemonade in her mouth and kept the visual link with her father. His emotional state was frightening and she didn't know how to handle it. If he started crying she'd be at a real loss. So she took his advice and thought of the first thing that popped into her head. It was vile and had no place at the dinner table, but she said it anyway.

"Do you think that waitress spat on our food?" she asked tightly.

"Aww Suellen!" Wilson cried and pulled his hand away to cover his face. "Really now, we're about to eat here."

"Hey," she defended with a small nervous laugh, "it's possible. We don't know what goes on behind closed doors." She indicated to a patch of gravy with her fork, "How about that? Take a look at this. Does this look like saliva to you? You're the expert on this kind of thing. Haven't you read _The Witches _where all the kitchen boys spit on the lady's steak when she sends it back?"

She continued with her commentary of the mundane between mouthfuls of their dinner. Rambling on with stories from the home, books she was reading Elizabeth and her baby brother Angus, movies she'd seen recently, what she'd done with her friends, all about her school course and other far from captivating thoughts.

Wilson didn't say much more, only listened to her rambling and contently ate his salad. He found the process very soothing as it distracted him from the dilemma pressing on his mind. Talking to House had been too heavy for him with the taunts and pressure. Whenever he tried to go deeper about the problem House would just brush it off and leave him alone with it. If he was going to sort everything out he first had to relax.

"Can I have another drink?" she asked when the waitress returned for their dirty crockery then ordered another lemonade when Wilson had responded with "Sure."

"Julie left me," he said breaking through her irrelevant chatter. He was prepared now to talk about his troubles and face the music. Taking a piece of paper from his pocket he unfolded it and slid it across the table to her.

Suellen picked the fax up with her slim fingers and read the short, angry paragraph. Julie had made herself very clear about what she wanted and Suellen was far from surprised.

The first words to come to mind were 'surprise, surprise' and 'duh Fred' but she articulated something a bit more compassionate for the situation.

"So what are going to do?" she repeated House's question. It was kinder than her thoughts but she wasn't about to slap on the sympathy.

"I don't know," Wilson said on a long exhale and took back the folded fax. "What do you think I should do?"

"Not my wife Dad," Suellen told him with a fixed expression. She didn't want this to end up the like the time in his office but she wasn't about to be incumbent with his problems. "It's about what you think now. This is your life and I don't need to tell you what you already know."

"Yea I know," he said pathetically much to his daughter's annoyance, "but if you had a say in this."

Suellen slowly clasped the side of the table with her fingers and lent across to close the distance between them wearing a hard gaze. "Do you really want to know?" she asked warningly.

"Yes."

"Ok," Suellen flopped back in her seat with a thump and crossed her arms to express her negative emotions. "This is what I think. Quite frankly I'd be a lot happier if you left Julie, discovered you had a repressed sexuality and married Greg in Toronto. I would be over the moon if you and he moved into a nice little house together in the suburbs and spent your weekends hosting tupperware parties then kept the neighbours awake all night long. Anything but shackle yourself to life with Julie again ok?"

It took a while for Wilson to digest all of that. Knowing how smart his girl was he'd anticipated a well thought and balanced answer but he hadn't expected her to be so blatant and the whole thing about him and House had totally thrown him. He was going to scold her for that remark but stopped when he recalled that he had asked her opinion and despite his protest, it was rather creative.

After a minute longer he was able to talk again starting with, "So-"

"Leave her or stay," Suellen cut him off quickly to prevent him from misguiding the conversation. "I just want you to be happy. Find a groove that works for you and stick with it. Anything that will get you smiling again."

That last bit had an unmistakable ring of sincerity to it. Wilson could see that she meant it because Suellen was uncharacteristically embarrassed now, playing with her fingers and looking at her shoes to hide the blush in her face.

He was caught with what she'd said about him smiling. Had he really changed so much these last few months when he'd realised the marriage was crumbling? Had the discovery of Julie's affair affected him so heavily? He had always thought he'd hid his misery well. House of course had noticed but that man knew everything. Was it so obvious to everyone else?

"Thank you Suellen," he said softly and let out a calm sigh. With those words in his head he could finally make a decision.

"Yea that was pretty good advice wasn't it?" she covered her vulnerability with egotistical praise. "I deserve some kind of magnificent reward for that, a commendation of the highest order. Oh well, I guess dessert will have to suffice."

Wilson's face blanked for a minute exactly as it did after House revealed one of his diabolical schemes to him then recovered with a bright expression. "The one marrying House it Toronto should be you!" he said demonstrating his recovered smile and nudged her foot playfully.

"I resent that remark!" she shouted back with a smile and moved her feet out of range before grabbing the dessert menu and passed one to James.

He quickly glanced at his grandfather's wristwatch to check how much time he had to eat before he needed to take Suellen home so he could make it in time for the bar opening.

* * *

Doctor House sat alone in his office in the early morning sitting before a whiteboard listing a series of symptoms without an identified cause. He'd sent his team home for sleep hours ago but he'd stayed all night repeatedly pouring over MRI scans and X-rays to find the finest detail he may have missed.

Again and again he twirled his cane in his right hand while he kept his gaze set on the board in front of him. His surroundings had seemed to have faded away, vanished to somewhere unknown leaving only himself and the whiteboard.

The sound of the door behind him broke House from his trance causing the office around him to rematerialise and the sense of timelessness was lost. The noise had hurtled him back into the real world where it was nearly the start of another working day and Suellen stood at the door holding her front bicycle wheel in her hand.

"Hey," House said somewhat dazed and put his cane down. He was still too stunned from his broken trance to supply a usual inimical greeting.

"Hey," Suellen repeated wearily, "do you have any tape around here? I hit a puncture on the road coming over."

House gestured to his office and muttered, "Second desk draw," before he returned his attention to the case.

Once Suellen had retrieved the needed tape she took herself and the wheel back to the conference table where she sat and began to dismantle it. Once the locomotive part lay in pieces she began to closely scrutinise the black rubber tubing for the slightest tear or hole.

"You're up early," House declared deciding to take a short break from solving his current puzzle. Maybe after a short rest he could go back and find something he'd missed earlier or possibly find something new.

"Same could be said for you," the girl said distractedly holding the tubing close to her face and listened closely for the smallest hiss of air escaping.

"I didn't go to bed," the doctor defended and went to the kitchen area to make a fresh pot of coffee. "You want some of this?"

Suellen looked up to see him gesturing the coffee pot in her direction and she shook her head before they returned to their tasks. House was filling his mug with sugar as the aroma of coffee beans rose to fill the office when he spoke again.

"Still wake up screaming Sue?" he asked casually without turning around to see her reaction.

He heard her knuckles making contact with the table top as she stopped searching for the puncture. There was a sharp intake of breath but neither a scream nor fast insult followed like he'd expected. Instead there was a pregnant pause then a dangerous exhale.

"Could you just not?" she asked vehemently in a tight voice.

House looked over his shoulder to see her squeezing her eyes closed and her left hand clenching the table side. Her head sank low for a few moments as if she was fighting something in her head trapped behind her shut eyelids. After a moment more Suellen's head returned to the top of her spine correcting her posture and opened her eyes again to find the elusive puncture.

"This is useless," she declared with a sigh a few minutes later once House had a warm coffee cup in his hand. "I can't see a damn thing."

"Pass it here," House ordered setting his cup down and held out a hand for the tubing.

Suellen hesitated for a minute as Greg's offers to help were rarer than sunflowers in Alaska and she was sceptical about his handyman skills. After a second more of adamant action she passed the black circle over to the doctor with the idea that any help was better than none.

"I'll show you a trick," he beckoned her over to the sink and spoke in an authoritative voice. Suellen followed his command and standing beside him watched him plug and fill the sink until it contained a few decent inches of water.

"Watch for the bubbles" he ordered and resting his weight against the bench went to put the tube in the sink.

"Bubbles?"

"Wait and see," House refused to explain and dunked the damaged tubing beneath the water.

"There!" Suellen shouted excitedly pointing to where she'd seen the stream of bubbles rise. "Port side! I mean left!" she corrected herself quickly with embarrassment when she saw the look House was giving her.

House pulled his wet hands out of the sink and held his thumb right below the puncture so Suellen could place the tape over it with precision. "Oxygen always rises to the surface," he explained, "so all the air in the tube had to escape through the puncture."

"Clever," Suellen admitted and took the tube back after House had detached his finger which Suellen had accidentally taped over. "Thanks for that."

"You can repay me by returning that tape to Wilson's office. I borrowed it a while a go and haven't found a minute to return it," he picked up his coffee mug and returned his attention to the whiteboard. His team would be arriving soon so he could begin the patient on another series of painful tests.

Even if they didn't help discover the cause of the illness he would at least get some satisfaction from inflicting pain upon a helpless victim.

Suellen stopped pumping up the wheel when she heard him say that and turned her head to deliver a nasty look. "By borrowed you mean commandeered right?" she asked critically through her loose blonde hair.

"Choose and adjective you're happy with and get a move on. I'm not running a charity here. My help isn't free unless you have a great medical insurance plan. Now be gone," House dismissed her with a wave of his and hand sat down before the whiteboard again taking slow sips of his coffee.

Suellen gave a defeated sigh and scooping the roll of tape into her hand she walked out of the office and down the hall. She'd heard that House had found a new housemate recently so unless Wilson had started early his office might be locked.

When there was no response to her knocking she tried the handle and finding it unlocked, entered the office. The room was cleaner now without take out containers cluttering up the desk and dry cleaning strung up everywhere. The first of many changes had begun for James' private life and there would be many challenges to face before he could live peacefully again.

Suellen opened the first desk draw she found and put the tape inside. If that wasn't where it belonged James could fix it later-she wasn't going to spend all morning ferreting through his furniture just to find out where he kept his stationary.

Suddenly she let out a startled scream as there was a loud crash and papers flew around the office as if caught in a maelstrom. Turning quickly in the direction of the noise Suellen saw with her wide eyes that the balcony doors had been blown open by the storm outside raging against the building.

She sprinted the short distance to the doors and stepping out onto the balcony reached out to grab a hold of the handle. The pouring ran soaked through her clothes and sent a shudder through her body. With the water continuously falling in her face Suellen had to squint to see what she was doing and her unrestrained hair was constantly hampering her view.

Pulling one door closed she bolted it down and hurried to close the other before the rain did any damage to office interior. This time however Suellen had to pull against the wind which was forcing the glass door against the side railings. At first she managed to bring the door in a fraction but a powerful gust slammed in back against the side bars and yanked her forward.

Her feet slipped from beneath her and she fell backwards onto the hard cement with a slam. Suellen squeezed her eyes shut tight and gritted her teeth. The back of her head stung when it had smacked against the hard surface and her back throbbed with pain. She was nearly drenched now with her front open to the falling rain while her underside soaked up the water already fallen.

Slowly she moved her arms and legs to push herself upright and tried again to close the door. This time she pulled with just her arms and carefully walked backwards to prevent another fall. When she was mid way back she put her left foot inside and grabbed the closed door with her left to assists with the task and prevent another fall.

Once the clip clicked into the opposite door Suellen rushed to bolt it the same as the other. The bolt descended into the floor and she lent her forehead against the cold glass from exhaustion, puffing large frosty clouds from her mouth. The ordeal had been exhilarating, making her heart rush and her body act on impulse rather than logic.

For a few moments longer she stayed like that catching her breath before she pushed her head up to look outside at the tumultuous weather. With the sky so dark and the office lights shining brightly she caught a clear view instead of her own reflection.

Her hair was slicked from the rain, reaching a few extra centimetres down her neck and her face blanched from the cold wind. Her clothes clung to her skin and her eyes large, the experience having woken her senses totally and expressing her stunned state.

Looking at herself on the rain splattered glass against a black backdrop a memory surfaced where she had stood on one side of a door looking in at another trapped on the other side. She could see Grant's petrified face through the door now, his tear filled eyes locked on hers.

Raising her left hand slowly Suellen pushed her fingertips against the glass, trying to make a connection with her friend through the barrier.

"_Suellen! Come on get me out of here man! There's something blocking the door! I can't-I can't get out! Help me Suellen!" _

Suellen heard his voice in her head then, his pitch high wobbling as his terror was interrupted by sobs. All around his the ship was filling with seawater as it began its decent to the ocean floor. If Suellen couldn't open the door he would die. If she left him he would die. If he didn't get out he would-

With a loud gasp Suellen pulled away from the door, moving her feet at a fast pace away from the balcony doors. Covering her mouth with one hand she stopped her impulse to be sick and took quick deep breaths. She was close to crying and her head ached horribly.

Just moments ago she was sure she was looking at Grant on the balcony staring out at him as they joined their fingertips to covey their last messages. Thankyou, I'm sorry, leave me and go, I wish I could stay with you, goodbye.

That was all she could do-say goodbye. She hadn't been able to save him so he had died just like the others.

The rain began to pelt the building harder making the rumbling noise against the glass crescendo to fill the office. Suellen covered her ears and began to whimper and moan lowly as she tried to stop the noises rising in her own head.

"_Port! Port! Turn her port!" _

"_Get them out of the rigging!" _

"_Grant! Robyn where's Grant!" _

"_Hold tight!" _

"_Geoffrey!" _

"_Look out!" _

"_Skipper the sail's split!" _

"_Abandon ship we've lost her!" _

"_Suellen it's too late! Leave him! Leave him! It's over!" _

"_Simon! Release the boats!" _

"_Help!" _

"Stop! Stop! Stop!" Suellen sobbed with tears falling freely down her face. Her palms were pressed hard against the side of her head futilely to seek silence from the crews' screaming and her fingers pulled her hair in twisted knots showing her panic.

Beneath her the floor was rocking to and fro pushing her feet back and forth on the carpet. The room was spinning wildly making her dizzy and disorientated. Her stomach felt uneasy and she trembled all over from both cold and fright.

'I need to sit down now' she ordered herself and made her way towards the desk as the room twisted and turned around her threatening to go over. As she staggered froward her hands slipped away from her head and her petrified expression dissolved.

She was only a foot away from the desk when her ankles gave out from under her and her dark eyes rolled skyward. There was an ugly sound as her face smacked the desk corner directly and she fell to the floor unconscious.


	6. Chapter 6

Hello everyone sorry about the long hiatus before! My computer totally dropped its lunchbox a little while ago so I wasn't able to get any writing done and since I've got it back it has been a little touch and go. So with about a week to go before the new semester starts I'll do my best to get as much out as I can now. Thanks for all the support so far and as these next few chapters are going to take a lot of work to write with all the medical facts and racy drama, I'd like to get a few more reviews if I could. That's all for now, see ya! Hikaru.

* * *

Wilson walked down the hospital corridor to his office at a reasonable pace that morning using two fingers to slide his coat sleeve up to check his watch. He'd just finished his morning rounds with his patients and was anticipating a call from his lawyer shortly. If he were to get out this divorce with more than just the shirt on his back he'd have to begin the deliberations and peace talks straight away.

Blessing the luck that prevented House from sticking his head out of his office and calling him in to waste his time for the next four hours, Wilson went into his office ready for a few moments of solitude and a cup of coffee in reasonably high spirits. What he got instead was a disaster.

The first thing he noticed was that paper and stationary had been thrown around the entire room covering all the furniture and floor. The second, more frightening thing was Suellen stretched out on the floor beside his desk unmoving.

Immediately Wilson dropped to his knees and rolled the teenager onto her back and saw the rush of blood pouring from her nose. The dark red liquid covered her mouth and chin, trialing down her neck onto her T-shirt that had soaked up a large amount telling Wilson two things.

Firstly that Suellen had been lying there unconscious for a considerable amount of time and secondly that the injury was severe.

"Oh baby," he croaked and rubbed his fingers over his mouth subconsciously expressing his anxiety.

Scooping an arm under his daughter he began to lift her slowly into a sitting position when she woke up. Forgetting where she was Suellen started struggling, pushing Wilson away then realising the blood coming from her nose she whimpered with panic.

"It's ok, it's ok," Wilson tried to soothe her and gently pulled away the hands snapped tight over her nose. "I'm going to get you fixed up just right. Everything will be ok."

Suellen shook her head and it took some more time spent promising and pacifying before he was able to move to the couch. The phone rang shrilly behind him but he ignored it, focusing his attention instead on Suellen's nose that was now beginning to bruise as more blood spilled down her front.

Grabbing the box of tissues he usually kept for patient tears from his desk he lifted the telephone receiver momentarily before letting it fall back into the cradle with a clang.

As some sense of clarity returned Suellen realised that she must of hurt herself from the fall so she pinched the bridge of her nose and tilted her head back to stop the blood flow. Wilson returned to the couch and gently taking her hand off her face forced her head down so that she could see her shoes.

"Don't tilt your head back Honey," he told her holding a bunch of tissues under her nostrils. They quickly moistened with blood and he pulled some more from the box to replace them. "Blood will go down the back of your throat and you can choke. Just lean forward and let it all come out. That's my girl. It's going to be ok sweetheart."

Had Suellen not been so unsettled she would have found her father's names of endearment odd. The most affection he would bestow her out loud was 'Sue' or the generic term of 'Honey' which held very little warmth, just familiarity.

Soon a mound of red tissues had piled up and Wilson ordered Suellen to breathe deeply through her mouth. If he was going to get the blood to clot he would have to do more than just wait patiently with tissues. The situation would have been a lot easier to handle in the clinic but there weren't any nurses in earshot on their floor.

"Ok Honey," Wilson said pulling a handful of more tissues from the box. "I need to go get something to help with the pain so you're going to have to hold these for a minute ok? I'll be right back."

"Ok," Suellen gurgled through her tears and bloodied face and once she took the tissues in her hand Wilson ran from the room to Greg's office where he was lecturing his underlings.

Without knocking the oncologist burst into the room and violently pulled open the door of the staff's mini refrigerator. Speedily his eyes scanned the inside of the cooling appliance until he saw the ice trays above Cameron's lunchtime salad.

Pulling the frozen tray from the unit he slammed the door closed and ignored the confused looks from the crowd who'd come to a complete stop when he'd crashed their conference.

"I need something to wrap this in," he said indirectly and went to the sink where Chase was standing.

"Paper towel?" the young Australian offered holding out the roll he'd been using to mop up the coffee he'd spilt moments before.

"No, no, something thicker," Wilson insisted and began opening the cupboards and draws hastily.

"What the hell are you doing?" House shouted obviously annoyed at his friend for interrupting the series of insults that he'd been laying on Foreman. Wilson looked through some more draws before he answered his friend while the three young doctors traded clueless looks.

"Suellen's hurt herself," Wilson stopped momentarily to look at House before returning to his quest. "I think she broke her nose."

Cameron got to her feet but was quickly reprimanded by her boss. "Not your patient," House barked pointing his cane at her and she slowly sat back down.

"What's wrong with you people? Don't you have any tea towels around here?" Wilson expressed his panic by hitting his colleagues with a petty insult.

"There are some dish clothes in the left cupboard I think," Foreman supplied helpfully pointing to the cupboard by Wilson's knees, who quickly thanked him and used two pattered cloths to make a rough icepack.

Displeased that his troops were paying more attention to Wilson's antics than they were to him House impatiently rapped the whiteboard and spoke acrimoniously to re-direct the spotlight.

Back in his office Wilson found Suellen where he'd left her on the couch shaking slightly in her seat. Approaching slowly with the icepack in one hand Wilson knelt in front of her to see she was still crying quietly. Hot tears rolled down her cheeks and fell off her chin as her breathing trembled threatening to change to sobs.

"It's ok sweetie," Wilson said kindly pulling the tissues away from her nose and tilted her chin up while keeping eye contact. "You'll be feeling a lot better soon."

The blood had stopped now but Wilson was a little worried about how much she'd lost. Judging by the state of her t-shirt Suellen hadn't bled enough to place her in any danger but there was no way she was going to be walking around anytime soon.

Putting the icepack down for a minute Wilson reached up and applied pressure on different areas of Suellen's nose to inspect the amount of damage. When he pinched the bridge tightly she let out a sharp yelp and he had to distance himself quickly before she smacked his fingers away.

"It's not broken," he concluded with much relief and after instructing Suellen to hold the icepack where he positioned it he began to clean the blood off her face. Wilson spoke in a soft soothing tone to settle her nerves and to prevent another incident similar to when he'd brought her back from the docks.

"It's going to really bruise up though," he continued talking and applied more pressure to get the stubborn stain out of her skin.

"Very attractive," she said still crying but tried her best to smile.

Wilson was glad to hear her talk. She couldn't see him crouching in front of her with the icepack covering her eyes so she missed seeing his shoulders sag with abatement and the momentary smile that played on his lips. Her response not only meant she was listening but that she wasn't in shock.

When the doctor had finished a faint pink tinge above her lips marked where the blood had been and Wilson settled there. Only a hot shower would get that out but at least it was an improvement from before.

Standing up he collected the mass of used tissues and threw them ungracefully in the bin. Then opening a side cupboard he pulled out an old sports bag and unzipped it. The noise caught his daughter's attention who shifted the icepack to the left a little to peek at what he was doing.

Wilson saw it and gave her a grim smile. "I've got some news for your t-shirt Sue and it's all bad," he said pulling a clean one from his bag.

"Darn I just got this one," Suellen groaned and swapped Wilson the icepack for the t-shirt with 'McGill University' written across it with a large emblem beneath.

Suellen put her father's T-shirt on her lap and had lifted her ruined top up to her stomach when the door opened without a preceding knock. A cane appeared in the doorway then Doctor House soon followed. The teenager's top dropped back down and the doctor inspected her injury from a distance.

"Looks like you wont be auditioning for this season's Playboy," he said with humour after he'd pulled his lips back with revulsion at the sight.

"Shut up House," Wilson wasn't in the mood to put with his attitude he felt too sorry for his daughter to allow House's torture. "Beat it already."

The aging diagnostician rocked back on his cane and gave a mixed smile of surprise and cheer. It wasn't often that his friend would be insulting to anyone, especially not him, so that meant Suellen's predicament had gotten under his skin. Watching the oncologist put the icepack back on his child's face and consoled her with a soft voice House mused over his approach to parenting.

"Do you like it when Sue is injured because it's the only time you know how to deal with her or because it scares you so much that you realise you do actually love her?"

Wilson's face went deadpan and some ice-cubes shifted in the soggy tea towel as he lost his grip momentarily. When he'd heard what House said his voice had caught in his throat and his chest inflated with restrained air. Even though the icepack was blocking her line of vision, Wilson knew that Suellen's eyes were set in his direction as she anticipated his answer. When he turned his head to look at his accuser House saw that his comment had cut him deeply and was restraining his temper.

Suellen let out a sudden whimper that diverted Wilson's attention and he eased back on the icepack. He'd been pushing it into her face fractionally harder those past few seconds without realising it and the pressure had begun to hurt her.

"Sorry, sorry," he said quickly then put the bundle on his knee to rearrange the ice cubes that were steadily melting thanks to the building's central heating system.

"Well?" asked House with a bright smile having become bored waiting for a response.

Looking up to see his smug expression Wilson's brow furrowed and his warm eyes chilled as his features formed a frown. House's attack of deliberate antagonism had made him genuinely mad but he wasn't sure if it was just his callous attitude that was aggravating him. Perhaps it was negative sentiment spilling over from his issues with Julie or that the anxiety that had consumed him shortly before had twisted itself into ferocity. Or maybe there was something else that unsettled him so, the shameful notion that perhaps House was right and he didn't want to hear it because admitting it would undermine any judgement he had about himself as a parent as well as a person.

"Do you find this amusing?" Wilson asked in a controlled voice after he'd fought down the brutal words he felt compelled to say.

"Not at all," House said with a slight shake of his head. "It's actually quite sad really."

There was a small grumbling noise in Wilson's throat but he didn't respond to that retort. Instead he did something much more productive by punching in the number of his ex-wife's house on his telephone. As he listened to the buzzing on the line he saw House walk over to Suellen and remove the icebag with a merry smile. When Wilson still received no answer after another dozen rings he replaced the receiver.

"Your Mum must be taking the kids to daycare," Wilson said continuing to speak as though House wasn't in the room.

"Yea right," Suellen rolled her eyes and spoke over the taunts House was ridiculing her with. "She's out gadding it up like she always is."

The divorcee bit the corner of his lip lightly to stop himself from smiling. He always found it amusing when the belletristic Suellen opted to use a crass comment over a grandiloquent description. Also, any mockery of his first wife was always found to be highly entertaining.

"You shouldn't be so harsh on your mother," he was obligated to say.

"Hey you were married to her long enough to know…" Suellen trailed off and closed her mouth quickly. She wore a strange expression and looked up at House who was standing directly in front of her.

"What?" he asked unkindly when she'd held his eye contact for short time without any explanation.

Suellen's upper body jerked forward as she vomited directly onto House. The warm bile spilled down his shirt to his pants and over his shoes with the majority landing on the push office carpet by her feet.

"God damn it!" House shouted angrily and stepped back as quickly as he could with a bung leg. "What's your problem? I'm not the one who named you!"

Later Wilson would come to smile and use this occasion to get a laugh out of the lab boys but right then he was more concerned than entertained by Suellen's position. House took this time to leave without a farewell and departed in search of clean clothes and somewhere to hide while Cuddy scoured the entire building for him.

The ill girl apologised through her fingers as she wiped away traces of vomit from her mouth while her father assured her he wasn't mad then made her lean up against some cushions and lifted her feet onto the couch.

Doctor Cameron appeared at the door while Wilson was removing her shoes and with genuine sincerity inquired about Suellen's wellbeing as well as his own.

Handing the icebag back to the patient Wilson approached Cameron and whispered to her a request for some pain killers and a light sedative. As he waited for her return he looked out at the balcony and observed the patterns the rain made against the glass doors. Suellen had strictly forbid him to help her change and ordered him to turn around.

"It's ok now Dad," she said wearily holding the icepack to her swollen nose again and passed him the ruined top that he promptly threw in the bin. His college t-shirt fitted her better as a dress and the head opening was so wide it hung off her bony shoulder. She attempted in vain to rearrange it so that her bra strap was hidden.

"What are you so worried about?" he asked with a confused face, "it's just me."

"Yea I know," she admitted awkwardly and scrunched her face with disconcerted emotions but stopped when it sent pain shooting through her nose. "But…"

She couldn't find a suitable answer and Wilson didn't pester her any further about it. Girls were funny about some things that way and he remembered his mother telling him he'd just have to put up with those quirks when Suellen was born.

Cameron returned and after thanking her he took the small cup of pills and poured a cup of water from the water cooler unit. Suellen did what she was told for a rare change, taking the pills without question then lent back to relax.

The oncologist quickly returned to his friend's office to retrieve some utensils for cleaning his carpet before it stained. Through the glass divider he could see House watching his soap in a pair of crinkled trousers and daggy t-shirt. Wilson made the motion to go and apologise but the look House gave him made him immediately reconsider.

All was quiet back in his office with Suellen mellowing out and Wilson keeping his mouth shut tight as he squirted the pine scented anti-bacterial spray on his carpet and began to scrub away. If the nursing staff could have seen him then he was sure they would have laughed themselves silly. Most doctors believed it beneath themselves to clean up vomit and the other bodily discharges of their patients. He'd seen House pass the buck often enough.

The only difference from that common scenario was the fact he was cleaning up after his own kid. His kid. That term always sounded unnatural to him no matter how many times he said it. Wilson had never seen himself as a parent, only as a husband and doctor and he wasn't sure if it was because he was a flawed father or because he had never wanted to be one.

"I'm sorry," Suellen said making him look up. "Really I am. I'm sorry, so sorry, I'm really, really sorry."

"Oh dear I think those pills have begun to kick in," Wilson said catching the distant look in Suellen's eyes. Satisfied with his cleaning Wilson threw the soggy paper towel in the wastebasket and tied the bag up to prevent the odour from filling the office.

How long had it been since he'd done something paternal? He and Martha had divorced when Suellen was six months, their marriage lasting just a little over a year- a clear sign they should never have married. Martha had been pregnant so it had seemed like the best thing to do at the time, only to have dream end when Martha was in the third trimester. In all the possible ways James had envisioned his life going Suellen had never appeared in any of them, at the time of her birth he had only seen her as an impediment towards his goal of becoming an oncologist.

"It was my fault you know," Suellen rolled her head on the cushions to face her father and caused the melted icepack to fall to the floor.

"Don't worry about it," Wilson said insouciantly and wandered over slowly to pick up the sodden cloths with the intention returning it before going down to the clinic to find a proper icepack. "We've all had an embarrassing fall or two. When I was in collage I broke my collarbone tripping over a car reversing out a driveway."

"When Simon drowned," she said quietly as though she hadn't heard him speak. "I could have saved him but I was too weak. It was my fault."

Upon hearing that Wilson's mouth moved into a small O shape and he looked Suellen directly in her clouded eyes with his wide ones. They were closing now thanks to the narcotics but the brown irises were open long enough for Wilson to see a deep pain of lament and sorrow in them before the lids shut tight.

Suellen's breathing steadied as she slept heavily in her dreamless slumber but Wilson's head spun wildly with rousing concern and confusion. Suellen hadn't said a word to him about the Albatross sinking and he doubted that Martha had been told anything either. Suellen's mother saw painful secrets as juicy gossip so her eldest children refrained from telling her anything in good trust.

The confession had rekindled Wilson's recollection of the pandemonium in the clinic when Suellen had screamed for her dead friends and had repeatedly apologised for something she wouldn't explain. Then Wilson had passed it over as common hysteria after a traumatising experience but a sick feeling in his gut stirred telling him that his daughter was harbouring something darker than common Post Traumatic Stress.

Behind him the phone rang jolting him out of his thoughts and he was immediately reminded where he was. Standing in his office with a sleeping girl on the couch holding a wet dishrag waiting for a phone call while his best friend cursed his name next door. Throwing the dishcloth over his chair he picked up the phone expecting it to be his lawyer on the other end. It wasn't.

It was Julie.

* * *

The next afternoon Doctor House sent his last clinic patient for the day away with a bogus prescription and very low self-esteem then walked with his cane to the reception desk.

"Doctor House checks out at five o' clock. Please write that down," he instructed the nurse filing behind the desk and threw the patient file he'd been holding down in front of her.

"But it's only a quarter to five," the nurse contradicted with confusion.

"You can read analogue time!" House looked gob smacked with spurious amazement before resetting his face back to its regular dissatisfied expression. "However as amazing as that is, I told you to write down five o'clock on the register so do it."

The nurse complied with his order thinking a few uncharitable thoughts and House turned to go when he spotted Wilson walking to the elevators with a bright smile greeting all of his colleagues along the way. House scrutinised him for a moment then something clicked in his head.

"Wait up Boy Wonder!" he shouted across the building. Several startled people looked over to him with surprise then quietly went about their business again once they realised that the man with the cane wasn't referring to them. His plan had succeeded though with Wilson coming to a halt in the elevator and held the doors open so his limping friend could catch up.

Once inside the lift House turned to face the closing doors when Wilson reached forward again to hit the open door button so a man scurrying towards them could ride up.

"He'll catch the next one," House said and smacked the oncologist across the knuckles with his cane. Wilson made a noise of pain and shook his injured hand as the doors rolled to a close.

"You didn't come home last night," House said watching the numbers change above his head. "Your mother and I were worried sick."

"My apologies Dad," Wilson responded sardonically now letting his hand rest. "I wasn't aware that there was a curfew."

"I don't impose curfews, but it certainly seems Julie does. Did you run home with your tail between your legs after she gave a sharp pull on the leash?"

Wilson turned sharply to face House with a bewildered expression. "How did you…"

"Your shirt is not one of the three you packed in your bag when you moved in with me," House began to list the subtle clues one by one in the blended style of Hercule Poirot, Sherlock Holmes and his own brand of smugness. "Your shoes and pants are different too so you must have gone back to your house to retrieve them. This past week and a half you've been wearing the same Armani cologne but today you reek of Hugo Boss. You walk with a certain spring in your step that can only mean you got laid last night and you're working back past five despite the absence of a heavy case load which tells me you had a late start this morning."

House stopped talking to give his companion a chance to argue but he only responded with silence. That wasn't to say that he didn't try though as Wilson made a series of small hand gestures and his mouth opened and closed several times trying to articulate something to say.

"You've gone back to your wife," House said leaning intrusively close to cause Wilson some further discomfort.

Wilson swallow hard then nodded his head. "Julie called me yesterday," he explained watching the numbers flash above their heads. He hoped that they reached their destination soon as House's encroachment upon his affairs was making him feel claustrophobic. "She asked me to come over, said she wanted to talk. She told me everything and I forgave her. I haven't exactly been the best husband and I have to admit that maybe she wouldn't have-"

"In short you've gone crawling back to the woman who, how did Sue put it? Treats you like crap?" House cut across stopping Wilson immediately.

"Do you and Suellen often get together to talk about me behind my back?" Wilson asked with an unimpressed expression and was delighted to hear the elevator chime.

"Me and Sue are like that," House said with a big smile crossing his middle and index finger over each other and held it up for Wilson to see. "Platonic soul mates."

"Be as that may," Wilson said not believing House in the least, "I would like to talk to Suellen about this myself so can you just keep this to yourself for now?"

"Sure," House said simply with a nod and the two doctors went in opposite directions. House walked to his office wincing slightly from the pain in his leg-he would have to take some more Vicodin to numb it before he could ride his bike home.

Opening the door to his office he wondered where he'd hidden his latest stash of Vicodin. Recently Cameron had been depriving him of them as a form of good will- some gibberish about addiction or such, he hadn't really listened at the time. Then he saw something he didn't expect.

Next door in the conference area Suellen stood talking to Chase and Foreman with her schoolbag on her back and rotating a bicycle wheel in one hand. Postponing his dose House changed his route to the door separating the two rooms and stuck his head out.

"What are you doing here puker?" he called across the room interrupting what Chase was telling her. All three of them looked over in House's direction with the same agitated expression and resigned themselves to a bombardment of insults. It was quite obvious Suellen had only come back to retrieve her repaired bicycle wheel but House couldn't resist mockery.

Suellen didn't look at all well, you didn't need House's medical degrees to see that. The swelling around her nose had gone but there were patches of purple and yellow bruising where she'd collided with the desk. Under her eyes were heavy dark rings that told of her exhaustion and her forehead glistened with fresh sweat.

"You look terrible," he said flatly when he'd finished his appraisal.

"Cameron said I looked good," Suellen protested.

"Cameron lied."

Suellen glared at him with her weary eyes and House also received a disapproving look from Foreman.

"Don't you have an appointment with the coroner or something?" Suellen asked nastily in response. The two doctors sitting near her fought the urge to laugh, Chase hiding his satisfied smirk behind a hand raised to create a pensive look.

"Get in here," House commanded as her last comment slid off like water on a duck's back. "I have something to tell you."

Suellen shook her head and headed for the door. "No thanks Greg," she said with her hand on the exit, "my appreciation for your company is at an all time low thanks to your comments yesterday. Adui."

"Suellen," he growled very displeased that she hadn't abandoned her habit of addressing him by his first name.

It wasn't his threatening tone that made her stop though- it was him calling her by her name. House avoided saying names because people could misinterpret it as affection and it obstructed his method of isolating people.

Chase and Foreman watched her as she halted and turned back to examine House's face. Finding no trace of farce she let the door fall closed and House moved aside to let her into his private office area. The intensivist and neurologist looked at one another then mutually shrugged and returned to their tasks.

* * *

"So that's it," House concluded after twenty minutes of talking with the teenager. "He's going back to Julie despite everything you've told him and is quite looking forward to returning to a life where you're out of the picture."

House was leaning back in his desk chair with both legs up on the desk as Suellen sat on the opposite side with her back towards him and her legs swinging.

"I see," she said quietly in a stiff voice and House opened his desk draw in search of a Vicodin bottle. For the next few moments he rummaged and foraged through his desktop mess and other draws until he found half a dozen loose pills scattered in with some paperclips in the bottom draw.

After flicking two of the white pain killers into his mouth he saw that Suellen hadn't moved. Still she sat on the end of the desk kicking her legs back and forth in a childish manner her head hung low without making a sound.

"If you're going to cry you need to leave," the doctor said unkindly prodding her in the back with the bottom of his cane. "I'm not one of those doctors who holds your hand and rubs your back."

Hearing him say that Suellen felt momentarily nostalgic of something someone not so different from House had told her once in a very unalike place.

_"I'm not here to wipe your noses and read you bedtime stories," Skipper barked walking past the teenagers lined up along the starboard side with a tin mug in his hand. As she watched him inspect each of the new crew Suellen was thinking that she'd never seen anyone fit the description of nautical so completely as he did. Shirt over a singlet, sleeves rolled up over toned arms, a stubbled face, sun bleached hair, tanned skin and an aura of authority that told everyone immediately that this was his ship and there was nothing about the sea he didn't know._

_"I'm here to teach you what you need to know to stay alive out there on the open ocean and how take care of yourselves. We're a crew ladies and gents and that means each one of you is responsible for the rest. I can't be up there holding the wheel wondering if all of you are going to do your jobs. When something has to be done-get it done! Sailing is not a game! Am I clear?"_

"Oh I'm not going to cry," Suellen said in a matter of fact tone and turned her placid face to look House right in his blue eyes.

"You're not?" House raised his eyebrows and twirled his cane in the air. To tell the truth he was rather disappointed, he had at least hoped for a temper tantrum. Seeing Suellen in a fit of rage was always quality viewing and her unforgiving plans of revenge appealed to his sadist humour.

"Nope," she chirped and nimbly jumped off the desk collecting her bag in one hand and wheel in another. "I'm not sad."

House watched her go and thought about her behaviour. Suellen was probably one of most honest people he'd ever met, second only to his father. However he wasn't convinced that she was fine with everything he'd just told her. It was highly probable that she was rather upset with Wilson's behaviour but wasn't ready to confess it. Therefore there had to be something stronger repressing the sadness inside her.

Suellen was angry.

Stepping out of the Diagnostics office Suellen begin her slow walk down the hall when she saw the man of the hour heading right towards her. If she'd been given the time to think about how convenient Wilson's appearance was she would have wondered if there was an unidentified element of fate at work but she was driven by other thoughts right then.

Wilson was oblivious to her presence as he maintained his course up the hall totally engrossed with the open file he was reading as he walked. Suellen took advantage of his vulnerable state marching quickly towards him dropping the wheel by her side and slid her bag down to her elbow.

Then just as she was within two meters of meeting Suellen charged at her father with an expression of malice swinging her weighty schoolbag over her shoulder and slammed it right into his stomach.

Back in Diagnostics department's conference room Chase was handing Foreman a cup of freshly brewed coffee when something caught his attention.

"What?" Foreman asked curiously taking the mug from him.

"Did you just hear something?" Chase asked distractedly.

The two doctors stood there silently for a short time straining their ears for the slightest sound before they both heard the unexplained sound again. It sounded sort of like someone was kicking a hamster making the rodent squeal in pain.

Looking out into the corridor they saw House standing in the hall with a luminous expression of gee as he watched something out of their view. That was all they needed to see to know that someone was in pain. Both doctors hurried to the door and out to find Wilson down on the ground trying to fend off blows from Suellen's schoolbag as she hit him with it again and again as she screamed at him.

Foreman moved to intervene but House's cane struck him lightly across the chest preventing his action.

"He needs to learn," he said still smiling at his friend's dismay. "Don't interrupt."

"I don't believe you!" Suellen roared as her bag slammed Wilson in the chest again. "You sorry, spineless coward! After everything she's done to you! After the way she hurt you like that! You're going to go crawling back to her when she's used you, chewed you up and spat you back out! You've got to be joking me!"

"Sue, Sue stop!" Wilson said trying to catch the backpack only to miss and have it hit him in the side of the head. Never before had he been directly caught in the hurricane of her temper and he was inert by stupefaction.

"Shut up!" she screamed slamming him down again. "Don't even try to make an excuse for yourself you pathetic loser. You're completely despicable! You had a chance to leave and make a new start for yourself but you got scared and went back to Julie! And do you know why? Because it's easier to be controlled by her than be independent!"

Suellen had got her assault technique into a rhythm now with methodical blows of the bag matching the tempo of her insults. House saw her rage as somewhat orchestrated with it's own vicious beauty like a firestorm.

"You act like everybody's friend with your warm, amicable attitude but the truth is you're miserable! You're lonely, scared and discontent with everything in your life but you don't have the balls to face yourself!"

Wilson stopped blocking the assault when he heard that, his arms lowering and he looked up to meet Suellen's wild eyes. The bag went limp as she stopped swinging and let it rest by her foot, her grip on the strap having loosed.

"That's what I like about House!" she puffed with exhaustion unaware of the crowd behind her listening. "He has no delusions about who he is or any phoney justifications for how he behaves and that is real courage- to do something prepared to take any consequences that may come from it. But you'll just continue to push away everything you have to pursue an idealised life that you'll never have. And when Julie cheats on you again-and I assure you she will- you can look back and see what you threw this opportunity away for!"

Suellen kicked her father hard in the hip then picking up the bike wheel stepped over him and stomped down the hall fuming and muttering venomously.

"Suellen I'm sorry!" Wilson called after her once he'd rolled onto his side and could see her pulling the stairwell door open.

Turning around with bared teeth and her eyes shooting a cutting glare Suellen shouted something at her father that most teenagers only ever dream of saying to their parents.

"F& you!" she screamed and slammed the heavy door behind her.

All four doctors looked after her in wide-eyed amazement still unable to comprehend the scene that had happened moments ago. That was the kind of explosive anger they'd expect to see in a movie but not in real life.

Wilson rolled onto his back and covering his face with one arm, let out a long groan. He ached all over from the attack but what really hurt him was the humiliation he felt. He was ashamed and embarrassed of himself and there was also a sorrow that came from knowing he'd now lost something else in his life that mattered more to him than he'd once believed.

He heard a thump as House's cane landed by his ear and he lowered his arm to look up at the smug smile of his friend looming high above blocking the ceiling lights.

"Dude," he laughed down at the pitiful sight by his feet. "That was rough!"

* * *

When Suellen stormed out of the hospital's entrance the temperature had plummeted and fresh snow crunched under her shoes. She didn't acknowledge the cold though as he anger kept her steaming and her stride was heavy, stomping the icy pavement on the way to the bench she'd chained her bike to the day before.

Angry thoughts of vice flew around in her head as she replayed the recent incident. She couldn't believe her father's nerve! After everything that he'd gone through with the Julie crisis he'd chosen the easy way out, damning himself to more days of dissatisfaction and unhappiness. Suellen didn't stop to think that she was being bigoted or that House had fed her a tainted story- when she was temperamental logic seemed to excuse itself from her rational.

Besides she was mad!

Unlocking the bike chain Suellen flung her bike to the ground violently and flipped it over so she could begin to reattach the wheel. Taking a spanner from her backpack she started to work intently and was surprised when a splash of water hit her in the face. She'd been brooding over the current debacle so intently that she'd paid no attention to her surroundings.

Looking up she felt more raindrops touch her skin and the glow of the streetlights illuminated the eerie glow of drizzle. A breeze came past picking up her light hair and sent a heavy shiver down her body.

"_Release the boats!" she made out Skipper screaming to Simon holding him by the front of his shirt. "Release the lifeboats and abandon ship!"_

_"Watch out for the blocks!" No sooner had Skipper yelled that he pulled Simon to the deck as a broken pulley swung over their heads and crashed into the mast. Another rush of water splashed over Suellen as she held onto the rigging like a lifeline while more and more waves poured over the ship. It was agony to squeeze the ropes with her bleeding hands but she had no choice. If she didn't hold onto something she'd be blown overboard by the waves._

_Beneath her the Albatross groaned and tilted dangerously to the right sending untied equipment sliding across the deck. The schooner rolled onto its starboard side lifting the hull from the water. A sight of daunting magnificence as the sea lifted the vessel and held it for a few breathless moments in a perilous position._

_The crew held tight to secured objects dangling helplessly as the ship bobbed precariously on its side, forced over by the strength of the ferocious wind and waves. Ropes snapped and flapped wildly, boards beneath them cracked and above their heads the sails were splitting like common cloth unable to manage the wind force. All around them the ship was coming to pieces and every crew member was hypnotised by the swirling dark water beneath them that meant certain death if the Albatross rolled over. _

_An ear splitting crack louder than any thunder evoked a scream from Suellen and she turned to see the mast leaning down towards the water as the mighty structure broke off and splashed on the water below. People screamed and Suellen was certain she'd seen someone fall._

_What happened next sapped the air from her lungs and lifted her stomach from its resting place. She was flung back against the rigging as the schooner fell back into an upright position, slamming the water with such force that it shook her grip loose and she bounded across the deck falling into a heap beside one of the boys._

_"Abandon ship! She's going to roll again!"_

Suellen dropped her hand tool and tried to muffle the fearful whimper that escaped her mouth. The rain was getting heavier and she was terrified that it was all happening again. Gasping deeply she filled her lungs to full capacity and moved away from the bench.

She had to get away, leave that place, get off the ship before it was too late. She could hear them all again now screaming to each other and begging for help. The world was spinning as the squall tried to kill her suffocating her and pulling her down. She had to fight! She had to struggle! She didn't want to die!

Suellen's thoughts raced as she staggered in a zig zag pattern across the snow covered ground. Holding her hands over her ears she squeezed her eyes shut and shook her head trying to cast out the sights and sounds that haunted her. Now convinced that memories were reality she cried out and it wasn't only rain that wet her face now.

Just then her foot slipped from beneath her and she landed hard on her side. Curling into a ball she attempted to shrink away and hide from the storm that tried to take her life. Her chest felt tight, she couldn't breath any more, her head pounded, her stomach churned and every last inch of her body ached. Wanting it to all stop she let out a wail of anguish and wrapped her arms around herself tightly.

Something squeezed her arm and pulled her off the ground swiftly. Someone was holding her on her feet from behind and the unexpected physical contact frightened her. Suellen began to scream with panic and pulled against the grip that held her. She didn't have the strength to break away though, her muscles throbbed with hot pain and her body couldn't muster the energy required.

Through he screams someone was shouting something to her, the voice rising an octave higher each time until she heard something familiar in the voice that subdued her.

"It's me! It's me Sue!"

Wilson had a firm grip around her middle and torso holding her tightly against him. When she heard him Suellen stopped screaming and went limp in his grasp, resting her body against his and letting her head hang to the side.

"I'd thought I'd lost you," he confessed and buried his face in his hair.

After he'd gotten off the floor Wilson had ignored the comments of the other doctors and had followed Suellen to the stairwell. Unable to catch up because of her head start he was certain that she'd gone by the time he'd reached the ground floor and run out the front entrance. Peering into the darkness with fresh rain beginning to fall steadily he'd seen a figure in the distance collapse on the snow and had feared the worst.

"I seriously thought I was going to die," she muttered in a distant voice then snapped forward to vomit on the white ground.

The only thing supporting her now was her father's hold who felt as though he was lifting a rag doll. Positioning her flaccid body so that the majority of her weight fell on his left side Wilson freed his right hand to touch her forehead.

"You're burning up," he said and willed the sick girl to walk as he dragged her back to the hospital.

Every step of the way was a chore for Suellen. A wave of exhaustion had overtaken her body making her feet feel tremendously heavy to lift. As her head rested against his shoulder Suellen received some comfort from the smell of cologne and Wilson's own distinct scent. It reminded her of memories from long ago ridding the thought of the drowned boys pleading for her to save them. Her head pounded violently preventing her from focusing on what was going on around her. She was somewhere with her father, but that was all. That was all she needed. She felt safe again.

When Wilson had coaxed her into the hospital he called out for a wheelchair then spoke to Suellen in a low voice, asking how she felt. Chase spotted them from a distance and headed over to help as he noticed the worry in Wilson's face and Suellen's inauspicious state.

Abruptly Suellen slammed into Wilson and taken by surprise he released his hold on her. She crashed on the tiles by his feet and rolled back and forth as her muscles surged wildly and her body convulsed.

"Patient seizing! Call the code!" Chase called out to the nurses excelling his pace to a run as Wilson dropped to the floor beside Suellen. Cushioning her head with one hand he rolled her to the side as she vomited again continuing to seize.

"We need some help over here!"


	7. Chapter 7

"Ok Sue can you squeeze my fingers for me?" Chase asked gently holding his hands out to her.

Suellen reached up from the bed and grasped his long fingers managing a weak hold before her fingers loosened and fell by her sides. Annoyed with her body's weakness she attempted a second time only to get the same outcome. She was about to try again when Chase moved his hands away.

"Don't worry about it," he said kindly then glanced surreptitiously to Foreman who jotted something down on the chart.

"Have you been taking any drugs Suellen?" Chase continued asking his routine questions to the frail teenager now dressed in hospital garments and tucked tightly under bleached sheets. "Something a friend gave you?"

"She wouldn't do that!" came the offended answer of Martha King before Suellen could speak.

Martha stood against the wall where Foreman had directed her to stand because she'd crowded the doctors when Suellen had regained consciousness. A woman in her mid thirties she was one of impeccable appearance, her make up and nail polish applied in perfect strokes to create an ornate mask over her imperfections and wore tasteful clothes. Her hair was golden blonde, shining brilliantly in the ceiling lights but at the roots a similar dirty blonde to her daughter's was reappearing underneath all the peroxide.

Beside her stood her husband Bill- a tall man of similar age with dark features holding their infant son who remained silent as his querulous wife vilified Chase. His expression said he was mentally absent from the situation, paying the least amount of attention to what his wife was saying which provided him some sort of complacency.

Next to Foreman Wilson stood by Suellen's bed with an unpalatable expression as he looked at his first wife. Every time she opened her mouth a primordial brutality within him had to be controlled as well as the thousand mordant remarks that came to his mind. Under his clothes he was beginning to bruise where the schoolbag had hit him but the real pain was having to be in the same room as Martha.

The one sitting closest to Suellen was her brother, Alexander. He sat on a high stool beside his sister's head with Elizabeth curled up on his lap. Even though he and Suellen were only half siblings the family resemblance was striking- sharing the same hair colour and svelte figure. He was taller though despite his age and he had the light blue eye colour of his mother.

He and his older sister connected their eyes for a second then turned away with the same torturous look.

"Mrs King please," Chase implored firmly. "It's important that we ask these questions so we can find out what's wrong with your daughter as soon as possible."

"By asking about drugs?" Martha chided and crossed her arms. "What kind of a mother do you think I am doctor?"

"Hey Ugly this isn't about you," Alexander piped up unexpectedly. "He was talking to Suellen so just zip it and get back in your corner."

All eyes turned on the teenage boy who wore a perfectly tranquil expression despite just venomously insulting his own mother. He appeared neither pleased with his audacity or fearful of reprimand as he sat with his sisters, it seemed as though that sort of thing was an offhanded statement for him.

"Alexander!" Martha was shocked but sadly not speechless. "I am your mother! How dare you-"

"Doctor Chase please continue," Alex redirected his attention to the attending doctors and subdued his mother's paltry complaints with a wave of his hand.

"Thanks," Chase said on the back foot and returned his attention to his newest patient. "Suellen have you taken anything recently?"

Suellen shook her head slowly and sighed "No."

Her face was ashen; the usual healthy tinge having been replaced with greyish white and faint patches of yellow. Under her eyes the black rings were darkening and the eyes themselves were dimming. Perspiration covered her skin making it glisten like pottery glaze in the hospital lights.

"Any recent injuries or animal bites we should know about? Ticks, spiders that kind of a thing?"

Again Suellen shook her head after a moment's thought. "Just my nose yesterday," she admitted, "and my hands were the only thing hurt in the accident." Mentioning her healing injury she turned her hands over to show them the extensive scarring on her palms. She then lifted her right up for a moment so she could examine it herself before squeezing her eyes closed and letting her hand fall.

"Ok," Chase took a deep breath and looked at Foreman again to plead silently for support. "This next question might be a bit delicate."

All eyes turned on the hesitant Australian and Suellen expected the worse.

"Have you had any recent sexual contact?"

"What?" Wilson spluttered snapping his head around to Chase.

"Of course she hasn't!" Martha cried out with insult.

"She hasn't had sex!" Bill broke his silence and took a step forward. He'd lost his apathetic expression trading it for a pernicious one.

"Have ya?" Alexander asked his sister excitedly with a wide, thrilled smile. "Spill the beans girl!"

"Hey Bill why don't you let me do the talking here?" Wilson snapped at the stepfather. "I am her father after all."

"Yea you're doing a superb job James," Bill responded cuttingly.

"What do you mean by that?" Wilson was starting to steam up and provoked his opponent for further argument.

"Don't go acting like you care now James," Martha interjected siding with her husband. "You've never cared about her before-we all know that. You never even wanted her!"

"Well if I remember correctly I was the one who stopped you from making a certain appointment Martha," Wilson lost his sense of propriety and attacked low.

Foreman and Chase stood astonished as they listened to the three of them argue. They'd seen parents bicker like this before with their other young patients but what stunned them was how they shouted at each other over Suellen, paying more attention to their argument than to their sick daughter.

Suellen covered her face with her hand and murmured something that only her brother heard.

"Don't treat me," she groaned. "Just leave me alone to die."

Suellen felt the bed sag by her ribs and taking her hand away she saw that Elizabeth was sitting on the bed with her, crawling up so she could hug. Now standing Alex grabbed his stool by the seat then pointed it over the bed and smacked Wilson in the chest with the legs stopping him in mid argument.

"Shut up," he ordered placidly then swung the stool to hit him in his right arm. "Get out of here you selfish mongrels. Go on, get out take it outside."

He then pointed his weapon at his parents and began herding them towards the door calmly speaking over their protests as he did so. "That's it get out of here you self absorbed bitches. Go stand in the cold corridor like you deserve."

"Alexander! Alexander!" the three adults shouted his name as they moved backwards out of the doorway but he took no heed.

"If you want to fight take it outside like common brawlers! Bye, bye, bye!"

Once Wilson and his parents were standing out of the room well away from the door Alex put the chair down and went outside himself, sliding the door closed behind him.

"I'll be here if you need me Sue," he told her after sliding the door open a tiny bit. "I'll be playing crowd control so you can tell these guys everything they need to know without interruption."

Suellen smiled at him with appreciation then put an arm around Elizabeth who was hugging her neck as Alex closed the door. Through the glass she cloud see her parents and Bill continuing their argument waving their arms around and pointing fingers of accusation at one another drawing the attention of the passing nurses.

Suellen sighed and gave Chase and Foreman a half smile. "Sorry about them. They just need to grow up."

The doctors were now extremely thankful that the tension had been removed from the room and relaxed significantly.

"Your brother is quite a character," Chase managed to say as he watched the young boy outside wave away his mother's words with a small flick of his wrist. Alex's surname suited him well for it expressed the kingly manner of his actions and the status of superiority he held over the three squabbling adults.

"He does have a certain charisma on his good days," his older sister acknowledged and explained no further.

"I need to apologise to you Suellen," Foreman admitted lowering his clipboard diverting her attention away from her brother.

"For what?"

"When I first met you I was under the impression you had some deep seated behavioural issues, but I see now that you are extremely well adjusted."

"Thanks" she said happily with her first genuine smile in a long time.

"Now about my question," Chase said looming over her to apply pressure.

Suellen slid her hands over Elizabeth's ears and sat up slightly before giving her answer.

"Three months ago in Jamaica," she hissed as both men leant forward to hear her. "I met a Dutch exchange student while I was there. We were careful and everything's been normal since then."

"You used protection?" Chase asked to clarify.

Suellen nodded then lent back onto the pillows with much relief. Her muscles ached constantly and the smallest strain on her body was painful.

"Your parents don't know about it I take?"

"Would you tell them?" she asked tilting her head in their direction with a look.

"Fair point."

"We'll need to run some tests," Foreman told her putting the chart down and handed Chase a syringe from the draw.

* * *

"Cocaine might do it," Chase thought aloud later that evening in the Diagnostics office. "Or a bad batch of ecstasy could cause the convolutions."

Cameron faced him with a condescending look on her beautiful features. In front of her she had a medical encyclopedia open checking for any possible illnesses Suellen might have that fit her symptoms.

"This is Suellen," she defended the patient with her optimistic outlook. "She's not stupid enough to mess around with drugs."

"Don't have to be stupid to do drugs," Chase argued as he rotated his pen over his fingers. "She might have swiped a few from a friend just to try or someone could have talked her into it. We see it all the time with teenage school kids wanting to be in with the popular crowd."

"Do you know her at all?" Cameron accused him with a cold glare.

"Stop that," House broke through their argument making his two staff members look up at him. He stood at the whiteboard favouring his left leg and his cane hung from the top of the board. "Treat this case just as you would if it were any other patient. Making it personal will only interfere with your diagnosis."

"You're not making this personal?" Cameron dug at her employer. "I find it hard to believe you snatched her file from Chase out of curiosity. We all know how you feel about her."

"She means nothing to me," he said in monotone and capped the marker in his hand.

"That's a lie!" she burst out, shocked by what he'd just said. "You like her! I've seen how you are around her, and not to mention she's the only child of your best friend."

"Don't confuse tolerance with affection," House stomped her arguments down. "Suellen doesn't bother with pretence, I respect that. Also, her temper tantrums are amusing so she retains some entertainment value but that is all. And as for your last point no one could really say that she is of great importance to Wilson now can we?"

Chase and Cameron looked at him with the same astounded expression and House held his palms open to welcome their argument. "Prove me wrong," he challenged them when Foreman came through the door holding the lab report.

"What have we got?" Cameron asked quickly with the door not even closed yet.

"Well the good news is that we've found the only teenager in New Jersey who's not experimenting with drugs," the neurologist said reading off the print out.

Cameron interrupted then to say a triumphant "see" to Chase who only shrugged apathetically.

"Clear for other toxins and there's been no recent alcohol abuse but-" House reached forward and snatched the test results violently from Foreman's hand and received the evil eye in return.

"Cut to the chase," he snapped impatiently and read through the report himself, skimming over the words and numbers with his large blue eyes.

"What's strange though," Foreman put his hands in his coat pockets and spoke to the two doctors excluded from the lab findings. "Is the high amount of lithium in her system."

"Lithium?" Chase repeated with a frown and opened the folder in front of him. "How could she have lithium in her blood stream? Her recent medical records don't say anything about that kind of treatment and I didn't give her any upon admission."

"Maybe someone else did," House said more to himself than to the others and got his cane off of the whiteboard. He headed out of the room then without explanation left the three young specialists in a baffled daze. Then after a moment's delay they followed his lead to the elevator down a few floors and to Suellen's room.

The patient was in the same state as when the doctors had left with their blood samples a few hours ago. Suellen dozed slightly with her eyes only open a fraction and Elizabeth curled up under her arm. Even in her current state she found herself babysitting.

The adults were pacified now having finished screaming at one another for the time being. Bill and Martha sat on one side of the room against the wall with their baby while James sat on his chair by the bed on the opposite side of the room. Alexander meanwhile sat perched on the end of the bed resting his chin on his palm flicking his eyes to each of the adults in a routine manner. He'd appointed himself the family peacekeeper only letting the parents back into the room after issuing commands and conditions of re-entry.

The family members all shifted into positions of attention upon the doctors' arrival, Martha, Bill and James all sitting up straight and Alexander raised his head from his hands. Suellen stirred and squeezed her eyes shut tight to clear her head of dreams and delusion before she too looked at House.

Her mother and father both began to ask the same question when House spoke, but to everyone's surprise his attention was directed at the brother.

"You're Bipolar," he said.

"What of it?" Alexander snapped quickly, his features stiffening.

Suellen swallowed nervously as she saw her brother's expression change. She knew very well that his emotional unbalance could cause him to spontaneously lash out or cause him great distress if put under pressure. Knowing House like she did, she sat up in bed to prepare for the offensive.

"What do you take for it?"

"Lithane for the Bipolar and Equetro as a mood stabiliser," Alex answered quickly, the medicine names falling off his tongue as naturally as the word cat, rat or dog. "Why is this important? Suellen's the one who's sick, I'm fine."

"Well," House had a slight laugh to his voice and enjoyed watching the boy grate his molars together. "You'll never technically 'be fine' with Manic Depression but I'm asking because your sister happens to have lithium poisoning."

Suellen's concerned vigil on her brother ended immediately suddenly turning her brown eyes on House. Alex's crossed arms dropped onto the bed losing his defensive composure and the adults waited for an elaborated explanation. House's three underlings meanwhile watched the scene from behind their leader silently solving the medical puzzle they'd been attempting to sort out a short time before.

"Now usually when a case like this comes along where a teenager shows up with lithium leaking out her eyes I say she's been fooling around with some anti-depressants to get a buzz in the morning. However from my years of experience babysitting Suellen whenever Big Daddy here went gadding it up with Mrs Wilson the Second-thanks for the expression Sue-I came to know several things about her. One of which is that she isn't stupid."

"House where are you going with this?" Wilson interjected then having lost patience with his meretricious manner. He currently had one hand resting on Suellen's shoulder to stop her from rising in bed any further.

"If she knew they were dangerous she wouldn't have taken them. However as lithium doesn't enter the body through osmosis, someone had to have given them to her."

There was silence in the room as everyone look at one another. Suellen's panda eyes expressed her distress as she sat sadly waiting to know who had betrayed her and made her the way she was.

Alexander looked around to find that everyone's impeaching glare was now targeted on him.

"It wasn't me," he pushed out. "I'd never hurt Suellen."

"I know that," House said rolling his eyes at the boy's misinterpretation. "I wasn't actually accusing you. You see, if I reveal to everyone that you own the pills then they'll automatically assume you're the guilty culprit. It's what's known in detective novels as a 'Red Herring'. What I think happened is that someone else has been taking your meds and giving them to her under false pretences."

House's voice lowered here and he broke eye contact with Alexander to look past him right at Martha. "As herbal supplements perhaps."

The pit of Suellen's stomach hardened and she turned to look at her mother the same as everyone else. Martha's jaw was set tight and she looked at House evenly, her face forced into an unperturbed expression as the anger bubbled underneath.

"Mum what is he talking about?" Alexander asked in a frightened voice, speaking the very same words that Suellen was thinking.

"Ah, so you weren't using him as your accomplice Martha," House nodded his head. "I guess you duped the lot of them so nobody would stand in your way."

"I was helping her," Martha said then in a justified tone. "Those things work well for Alexander's condition so I thought they'd do the same for her."

"You were drugging me?" Suellen yelled breaking out of the fatigue that had subdued her until then.

"For your own good," Martha looked down at her and crossed her arms. "You've been moody for weeks. Shutting yourself up in your room giving us the silent treatment or disappearing for hours on end. You needed to settle down and stop acting so miserable. Really Suellen, you're becoming quite an embarrassment."

Suellen's lungs filled and a sensation rose in her throat but she couldn't push out the words. She was so angry now that her body and mind seemed to work separately.

"I embarrass you?" the words eventually struggled out after a few moments more. She felt Wilson's hand around her wrist but it did nothing to soothe her. Instead she felt compelled to bash it away and lunge at her mother only her body couldn't manage the strain.

"The lithium went to the brain and caused the seizure," Foreman spoke up. Until then House's team had stood in the background as spectators and now the King family acknowledged their presence.

"It also explains the fatigue, weakness, nausea and low blood pressure," House continued. "We'll neutralise the chemicals and she'll be fine in a few days."

Alexander rolled himself off the bed and onto his feet, slamming his shoes hard against the tiles then stormed out of the room with clenched fists.

"Where are you going?" his father called after him.

"Away!" they heard him roar as nurses and other staff hastily moved out of his path. "If I stay someone will get hurt!"

Bill looked at his wife with aversion then went to the take Elizabeth's hand, pulling her off of the bed then took his youngest children to follow his eldest.

"Suellen look," Martha uncrossed her arms and took a step away from the wall. "Don't be so dramatic about all of this. I only did what was in your best interests."

"You could have killed her Mrs King," Chase pointed out with disfavour in his voice.

"If I'd thought she would have taken them when I asked I wouldn't have needed to lie," Martha's tone elevated getting ready for a fight in her defence. "Suellen is such a difficult child, she fights with me about everything. It was better for me to make the decision for her."

"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Wilson spoke to her with a look of pure loathing. "Slipping a child anti-depressants is dangerous, not to mention stupid. How could you be so irresponsible?"

"Are you going to lecture me about being a responsible parent James?" she challenged him.

"Get out," everyone looked at Suellen, the danger in her growl had brought them all to a halt. Slowly she raised her face to look at her mother with an expression that matched her voice. "Leave now."

"Really Suellen behave yourself now," Martha said impatiently. "Know your place or you'll just end up embarrassing me again."

"You embarrass me!" Suellen screamed with all the energy she had. "You're a narcissistic bitch! You're useless and pathetic and don't even have the decency to apologise. You were killing me!"

The patient breathed heavily while her mother watched her wide-eyed and open-mouthed.

"Out, out, get out! Now!"

First the first time ever, Wilson watched as Martha did as she was told. Her high heels clicked slowly at first she walked cautiously around the bed in a wide circle watching her daughter fearfully then quickened her pace to exit the room. Suellen followed her through angry slits breathing heavily and was only pacified when Martha was out of sight.

"Start her on an IV to neutralise the lithium and saline to keep her hydrated," House instructed Cameron as he turned around and walked out of the room having nothing further to say to his cured patient.

Cameron nodded and went with Chase to retrieve the prescribed medications. Foreman took a moment to watch the father and daughter then shook his head and followed his boss back to the office.

Suellen sat rigid on the bed staring down at her feet trying to slow her angry breathing. Her body hurt from being clenched up so tight but her tumult caused too much unrest to allow her to relax. In her head she screamed dozens of angry things while she wrestled the disbelief of what Martha had done to her.

"Suellen," hearing her name startled her and she turned to see that Wilson was still sitting beside her. In her livid trace she'd dismissed all that had happened in the room around her, too wound up in her own mixed emotions to pay attention.

"Are you ok?" he asked gently. Wilson knew that was a stupid thing to say but it was the only phase that came to mind, almost as an instinctive reflex he used for his patients.

"I went through Hell," Suellen spoke as she'd heard him ask an entirely different question. "And she thinks that I should just get over it, like it never even happened. She doesn't understand, she wasn't on that ship, she never saw…"

She stopped talking then and shuddered. She thought if she spoke any more of what had happened out in that storm she would begin to cry and she didn't want to break down in front of her father.

"Hey, hey it's ok," Wilson said softly rubbing her back gently. "I'm going to settle everything with your mother so you just concentrate on getting better. Just lie back and take it easy."

Suellen nodded and allowed him to push her back down onto the pillows and tuck her in under the hospital regulation sheets. Her body was relived to have lost the tension of sitting at attention but her throbbing muscles still caused considerable pain.

"Get some sleep and I'll come check on you later."

Wilson stood after giving his daughter a reassuring smile and turned to leave. Something pulled on his coat sleeve though stopping him and he turned to see what it had snagged on he saw that Suellen had caught the white fabric between her fingers, holding it tight. Both curious and confused Wilson frowned at his sleeve for a few seconds then looked at Suellen.

"Can you stay with me until I fall sleep?" she asked quietly.

Wilson saw her expression and found he couldn't refuse. She looked so fragile and small holding onto him with a weak grip pleading for his company. Right then suffering the effects of lithium poisoning Suellen wasn't the loud rebellious teen he knew but a scared little girl who thought her father could make everything ok.

"Yes," James said with a nod and returned to his seat. Suellen let go of his coat as he expected but what he didn't expect was her taking a hold of his hand.

Her small lean fingers closed around his palm and she held it there. Her pale hand was cold against his large warm one but he let it stay there all the same. Wilson looked at Suellen but found that she already had her eyes closed. Her breathing was too uneven for her to be asleep already but he kept his hand there all the same, watching her drift into slumber thinking a great number of things.

That was how he stayed for hours, sitting in the silence watching Suellen sleep and occasionally checking the monitors beside her bed. Cameron had been and gone already and now the IV bags were close to emptying. The nurses would be coming soon to change them. Suellen had rolled onto her side a while ago and now Wilson's hand was trapped between both of hers. His fingers had gone cold in her hold due to lack of circulation but he wasn't troubled.

As strange as it was to be holding the hand of his sick sleeping daughter who he hardly knew Wilson felt somewhat at peace.

The door rolled opened slowly behind him and he turned his head expecting to see the nurse with new IV bags. Instead it was House hobbling through the threshold holding only his cane noting the position his friend's hand was in.

Wilson slipped his hand out of Suellen's hold, finding that it took a bit of force as she had a considerable grip on it.

"She ok now?" House asked quietly so not to disturb her.

"Yea, she's calmed down," Wilson nodded diverting his attention away from Suellen for the first time in hours.

There was a silence between them before House spoke again. "Y'know," he said to get Wilson's attention again. "On the bright side Martha's made you look like a great parent by comparison."

Wilson's eyebrows rose for a moment with amusement but he let the humour pass quickly.

"I'm no better," he shook his head and turned back to Suellen. "I've hurt her just as much; only in a different way. She needed me and I wasn't there for her, and I have no excuse."

"Martha had us all fooled," was all House said providing neither condolence nor damnation but instead a plastic cup which he pushed into Wilson's hand. "Get me a urine sample then lets go."

Wilson obediently complied and got out of his seat to collect urine from the container on the opposite side of the bed. Doing this he felt neither awkward nor embarrassed, this was yet another doctor reflex that allowed him to function around Suellen. When he went to take a sample he stopped suddenly looking down at something that House couldn't see.

"House," he said in a voice that aroused concern in the crippled doctor. Wilson pulled the container up and he saw that it was filled with dark red brown urine. "She's urinating blood."

Quick to act House approached the bed and shook Suellen roughly from her slumber.

"Hey!" he said loudly at her. "Did you tell us everything before? Have you had any other symptoms?"

"Todd's turn for dog watch," Suellen slurred with her eyes only fractionally open. "Let me sleep Mr Mcrea."

House took his hand from her shoulder and looked over at Wilson who was watching anxiously. "Pass me the thermometer," he instructed urgently holding his hand out.

Wilson made no move to do anything as such, instead watching as Suellen began to fall back asleep mumbling incoherent things.

"Wilson!" House barked and the oncologist broke out of inertia. Hastily he grabbed the gun shaped thermometer from the cart behind him and passed it to his friend.

House snatched it from him and leaning against the bed for support shoved it into Suellen's ear. After a few seconds the machine beeped and House pulled it up to eye level to read the electronic digits. In black markings the tiny screen read 40C.

House threw the thermometer to the end of the bed and pulled open Suellen's eyes lids to inspect her pupils. "Go to the nurse's station and tell them she has a high grade temperature and acute kidney failure. Go now!"

Wilson ran out of the room and House's fingers searched for Suellen's pulse by the side of her neck. Under his fingertips her artery pumped at an erratic pace.

"Set the main," she murmured rolling around at escape House's touch. "Reef north-west, turn port. Tighten the-"

She never finished her sentence, the words catching in her throat. Her eyes glazed over and her body began to shake violently, elevating her off the bed then slamming her back again. Her arms waved so wildly her IV came out of her hand and she hit House in the shoulder. When he saw the sputum rising from her mouth House rolled her onto her side and looked over his shoulder to find anyone to assist and saw no one.

"I need some help in here!"


	8. Chapter 8

"_Whose woods these are I think I know, His house is in the village_ _though!"_

_Suellen forced her eyes open a crack as the cacophony that was Mr Mcrea's voice forced her awake. There was a great deal of crashing and stomping as half a dozen boys descended the stairs to the sleeping quarters carrying tin mugs and plates of hot bacon and eggs fresh from the pan. Groans of discomfort and melancholy arose from the nearby bunks that Suellen joined and pulled her pillow over her head. _

_It was of little use though as if failed to block out Mcrea's reading of Robert Frost. _

"_He will not see me stopping here, To watch his woods fill up with snow!" the English teacher went to each bunk containing a sleeping teen to rouse them roughly from their slumber. _

"_My little horse must think it queer, To stop without a farmhouse near, Between the woods and frozen lake, The darkest evening of the year," Mcrea slapped the sleeping face of Simon Fitzgerald with his cap and dodged the swing of the boy's arm then pushed the boy in the bunk beneath him with his foot. _

"_He gives his harness bells a shake, To ask if there is some mistake. The only other sound's the sweep, Of easy wind and downy flake." _

_Suellen groaned apoplectically into her mattress and swore that this must be the worst way in existence to be woken up. Mcrea's method of rousing sleeping teens with raucously recited poetry gave a whole new meaning to the term 'rude awakening.' _

_Taking the white pillow off her head Suellen lifted her puffy face to make out the blurry hands reading six AM on her pocket sized alarm clock. Stretching her jaw wide she yawned right when Mcrea grabbed her arm and pulled her upper body off the bed. _

"_Tell me my girl," the suspected psychotic teacher asked the upside down face that dangled from the top bunk. "How does it end? Say the words you know well." _

"_The woods are lovely, dark and deep, But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep," she recited and pulled herself back onto the bunk. _

_The boys eating breakfast on their beds put down their cutlery to applaud. _

"_Bravo!" one shouted. _

"_Sterling performance Sue!" said another. _

"_Your parents must be so proud!" came a third. _

"_Aww shove it," she called back playfully at the chuckling crew who threw around a few more witticisms before they returned to their breakfast. _

"_On deck in five minutes day watch," Mcrea called as he was already halfway up the stairs. "Anyone not dressed and ready will be getting a cold salt water bath." _

_Knowing from personal experience that the man meant what he said Suellen and six of the other crew members grabbed their bags to change out their clothes. Being one of only three females on board and one of the two who shared a room with twelve teenage boys Suellen had developed a technique of dressing without giving the fellas a free show. Much to many of the boys' disappointment she and Robyn had become experts in slipping their bras on underneath their T-shirts and putting their pants on under the bed sheets. _

_As she dressed Suellen compared how other people had woken her up over the years to see if her suspicion about Mcrea's form really being the worst in existence was true._

_She honestly couldn't recall her mother ever waking her up as most mornings Suellen would be awake, have made breakfast for herself and siblings and be out the door before her Martha had even taken her sleeping mask off. _

_Mcrea was more favourable to Bill's method though. Hearing beautiful words first thing in the morning definitely topped her stepfather throwing the curtains open and screaming, "Alright out of bed! Time to get up! Let's go you have school!" _

_Her father had a nice way of doing it though. Suellen pulled a clean T-shirt over her head as she focused on that memory. It was from so long ago now she wasn't sure exactly when the incident had occurred. Frowning, she concentrated hard and began to climb down the ladder. _

_It had to have been when he was on his second marriage. Which was when? About five years ago now? Had to have been because that was when he was living in the house with the spare room. It was one of the only times she'd ever slept over and spent the whole weekend with him. Most other times his pager would go off and he'd drop her home or she'd end up at Greg's apartment eating popcorn while he watched monster trucks on the TV. _

_She remembered now that James had come into the spare room where she slept and sat down on the bed beside her. Putting a freshly made mug of hot chocolate on the bedside table he'd called her name softly and patted her ribs until she opened her eyes. Little rapid pats that fell lightly on her side just forceful enough to wake her gently from sleep. That had been nice._

_But that had only happen once. _

"_God damn Prescot it's six in the morning!" _

_Suellen looked over to see Simon tightening his belt and looking at Dean Prescot condemningly through his glasses. _

_A tall body with a built body Dean Prescot sat on his bunk still in his underwear and nightshirt his legs spread apart with a cigarette between his lips. _

"_Piss off Simon this is breakfast man," the dark haired boy protested taking a long drag on his cigarette. He then tilted his head up and blew the cloud of grey smoke from his lungs into Simon's face. _

"_Cut the crap Dean," Suellen commanded and ran a hairbrush through her blonde hair. It had grown a lot longer than she usually let it since she'd been on board, the golden strands now reaching the tip of her spine. It hadn't been intentional, it just happened that there weren't many hairdressers in the East Pacific Ocean. _

_Dean was about to snap back with snark comment when the room jerked to the right violently. Ornaments slid off shelves, objects rolled out from under beds across the decking and those standing grabbed hold of something fixed impulsively. Suellen dropped her hairbrush and went a few steps backward before she walked into the bunk beds behind her where the boy's were standing. Dean's hand shot up and grabbed her wrist to steady her while Simon wrapped his arms around the banister to secure himself. _

_Dean's grip tightened as the ship rolled back to the left then steadied. Everyone was silent as they awaited the schooner to rock again, all eyes set on the decking above their heads as if they could see what was happening on deck through it. After a few moments more the hand on Suellen's wrist relaxed and people began to talk at once. _

"_Is it getting rough out there?" _

"_Yea it's been a bit choppy for a couple of hours now. I think we'll be sailing into some wild weather." _

"_Skipper thinks it'll storm soon so you guys might want to take your raincoats." _

"_Oh well, at least I can catch some water for my laundry." _

"_Hey save some for me?" _

"_Sure." _

"_Which one of you bitches drank all my vodka?" _

"_Oh have a cry why don't ya?" _

"_You ok?" Dean asked Suellen and released her wrist after she'd nodded. _

"_Come on let's get going," Simon said taking charge of the situation and ushered them all towards the staircase with a few waves of his arm. "I don't want Mcrea coming back down here to chant like a heathen. Next time he might sing at us." _

_Everyone agreed wholeheartedly that they didn't want that to happen and began to move around again. Dean found some pants to wear and moved out with the rest of the day watch. The night shift group meanwhile stacked up their breakfast dishes and got into bed thankful for the rest. _

_Suellen fell in line behind Robyn following her to the staircase when Grant spoke to her. _

"_Be careful out there Suellen. It might get rough," he said in his quiet voice watching her from his bunk, already lying under the sheets. He looked up at her with concern and she smiled back to reassure him. _

"_No problem," she said with confidence and grabbed the pillow from Dean's bunk. "Let the sea throw whatever its got at me, I'm ready. Sweet dreams Grant." _

_She dropped the pillow on his head and hurried after the group catching up to Robyn just they got to the galley. There the cook was scooping their breakfast onto plates for them to eat later on their morning break. Skipper and Mrs Sheldon were sitting together at the table with their coffee as the radio crackled and spluttered incomprehensible babble. Mrs Sheldon was reading a book and when Skipper caught Suellen watching them finished his coffee ready to take the morning shift. _

_Dean reached for a scrap of bacon sitting in the pan only to receive a smack on the hand by the cook's spatula. He cursed and snatched his hand back, giving the evil eye to Mr Du Pre who simply shrugged it off. With his head turned Dean saw Robyn holding her video camera up in her hand adjusting the capture quality and checking the battery. _

"_You're not taking that thing out again are you?" he asked rather unkindly. _

"_Hell yea," Robyn said without taking her eyes off what she was doing. "We'll be home in a couple of days and I want to make sure I've got plenty of footage to show my folks." _

"_You've posted them like a thousand tapes already!" Dean barked. _

_Suellen lent to the left so Dean could see the condescending look she was giving him. As Robyn was an extremely tall girl of Native American heritage it was impossible to look over her shoulder so Suellen had to look around her instead. _

"_Shut up and leave the girl alone," she snapped at him. "And I think Robyn's only sent off six tapes if memory serves. If I tell you once I tell you a million times Dean; don't over exaggerate!" _

"_Thank you Suellen," Robyn chirped looking down behind her to see her friend. _

"_No problem," she said nobly then snatched the scrap of bacon from the pan before the cook could catch her. Suellen grinned at him with triumph as she held the meat between her teeth which he smiled at. Then Skipper called for all to grab their coats and move out. _

_Out the windows Suellen could see that it was beginning the rain and the sea was dark with white foam tipping the churning waves and the sky a light grey overcast. After six months of sea with this man she'd come to read the weather as well as any barometer and navigate by the stars. The sea would be rough for the next few hours but she didn't expect much more than a few thunderclouds and a wet deck. _

"_Here we go," Skipper said to her as she passed him. He held the door open for her and gave the closest he had to a smile. _

"_Yea here we go," she said crunching some of the bacon in her back teeth before going out the door and up the stairs to the deck. _

_Suellen said her good mornings to Shay the First Mate and checked the rigging as she passed. The sails were down and the engines off, the schooner moving through the sea by the strength of the wind. In her first week on board she remembered they'd encountered similar weather and the whole crew had been lined up along the side spilling their guts into the water. Now she and the rest wouldn't feel nauseous in a hurricane. _

"_How are we doing?" Suellen asked coming up behind Todd who had taken the wheel from Mcrea a few minutes before. Over his shoulder Suellen saw the compass bobbing and spinning in its glass bubble. _

"_Holding her steady in a north west position," Todd told her without taking his eyes off the bow of the Albatross. _

_Suellen nodded then went to her appointed position where she saw Robyn still tinkering with her camera. _

"_You'd better get rid of that before Skipper sees it," she warned as she watched the said captain speaking to Shay by the stern. "If he's in one of his moods he might just throw it overboard." _

"_Good point," the Indian girl said and after setting the camera to record strapped it to a velcro loop she wore around her belt. "You doing anything for Christmas when we dock Sue?" _

_There was a loud laugh nearby making both girls look up. A short distance off Simon was winding some loose rope around his forearm and looking at the girls with a wide smile. _

"_I'm Jewish," she said with the same smile as Simon and chucked a little at Robyn's embarrassed face._

"_So it'll be Hanukkah dinner at your place then?" Robyn was quick to ask another question before Simon and Suellen could think up some jokes to taunt her with. _

"_Nah my brothers and sister will probably go with Mum and Bill to their grandparent's place for Christmas dinner. I'll stay home or go to my friend Tony's house. His family always has a feast come Christmas." _

"_I think I'll go to Tony's too," Simon said as he walked past the girls carrying a coil of rope over each shoulder. "Anything to escape my mother's cooking." _

"_So I take it your father's passed on Sue?" Robyn asked delicately once Simon had passed and they'd stop smiling at his comment. She didn't want him to shout at her for reviving old memories and obstruct her curiosity. _

_The blonde girl took her eyes off of the inauspiciously dark horizon to give the taller girl a strange frown. _

"_No," Suellen said flatly as if she'd just asked something stupid. "He was alive the last I heard." _

"_Oh," Robyn got the definite feeling that she was digging her own grave a foot deeper with every question. "Sorry, I forget that not everyone has a family like mine." _

"_The nuclear family is a dying species," Suellen said with conviction and turned her back on the ocean so she could rest against the ship's side. "My father's Jewish but I can't really say either of use are especially devout. He's on his third marriage and I've only ever attended the synagogue once. And Dad only took me that time to shut Grandpa up." _

"_Why don't you spend Christmas day with him then? It's got to beat spending the day alone." _

_Suellen sighed and thought about how to phrase her answer for a few seconds before she managed to form something suitable. It was difficult explaining her family situation to Robyn since she came from a conventional home that had given her an idealised view of how divorced parents were with their children. _

"_I'm not really a part of his life," she said eventually without looking at her friend. "And I don't think he likes me all that much. Not to mention he doesn't exactly know how to parent particularly well." _

"_Meaning?" _

"_He's a deadbeat dad." _

"_Oh," Robyn was quite taken back by that comment. _

"_Is he like Skipper?" _

"_No he's nothing like Skipper. Let's leave it there huh?" Suellen suggested and they said no more about it. _

_Robyn was about to talk of something else when the thought was immediately shocked out of her skull. A sudden blast of thunder above their heads made both girls jump and look skyward. Above them dark clouds were circling and a series of flashes lit the sky. The gentle grey clouds had gone replaced with foreboding black ones. _

"_What the hell?" Suellen thought aloud with her breath still heavy from the fright. "It was clear only a few minutes ago." _

_Beneath them the schooner rocked precariously from side to side and both girls spread their feet further apart to centre their balance better. _

"_What gives Todd?" Robyn called out to the boy holding the wheel while Suellen looked upwards to inspect the sails. All sails were blown out to their full capacity, the white fabric puffed out as the wind pushed the schooner forward. _

_Even though Suellen saw it clearly, she didn't believe what happened next. There was a sound of material ripping as the Foresail split open right down the centre- the two halves separated and flapped wildly in the gale. _

"_The Foresail's blown out!" she screamed loudly so the entire crew knew what she was about to do and pulled herself up into the rigging. Lightning flashed again and a wave rose over the side, splashing onto the deck and wetting Suellen from head to toe. She yelped at the ice cold that sent a shiver through her then shook her head to clear the water from her eyes before climbing further up the rigging. _

"_No stay out of the rigging!" Skipper screamed across the deck. "Robyn get her down! Todd keep her steady! Everyone hold tight!" _

_The tall Native American grabbed the climbing girl by the back of her jeans and pulled her out of the rigging with one hand yank. Suellen's feet hit the wet decking with a thud sending pain through her ankles. The ship's bow collided with a strong oncoming wave heaving the front of the ship into the air. _

_Suellen and Robyn both fell and rolled across the deck for a few feet. The thunder boomed in their ears and the wind blew raindrops into their faces that stung their skin. The wind seemed to come from all directions now making the sails flap wildly and deafened them to Skipper's orders. _

_Something grabbed Suellen by the back of her coat and dumped her on her feet. She looped an arm through the rigging before turning to see that Skipper was now beside her lifting Robyn up. She gasped as another wave came over blocking her view of the others running across deck to steady the ship against the storm that seemed to have appeared from nowhere. _

_For a brief second Suellen took her eyes away from studying the situation on board to glimpse at the sea in front of her. But what she saw didn't let her look away again. Away in the distance approaching them at an alarming speed was a wall of white as high as the sky rising from the ocean. _

"_Skipper!" she yelled to the man behind her. _

"_White Squall," she heard him whisper beside her ear in a voice she'd never heard him use before. The low octave of his voice made her colder than the icy water could and she grabbed onto the rigging with her other hand, watching as the storm of water and wind raced across the ocean to collide with them. _

"_Hold tight!" Skipper roared and grabbed onto the rigging with his huge callused hands beside Suellen's tiny ones holding as tightly as he could. Suellen felt the wind and rain touch her face and took one long deep breath. _

_The white squall hit. _

**(Part Two)**

"After eight hours on the IV drip medication the patient has continued to decline, having another seizure late last night. Muscle weakness and fever are rising and her blood pressure's dropping from unexplained anaemia. The lithium in her system has decreased to a harmless level so it's clear now that it is not the cause of her symptoms. Does the family history tell us anything?"

The early morning sun was shining brightly melting last night's snow outside the Diagnostics office as the team sat together attempting to reach a prognosis. House had one arm hanging over the corner of the whiteboard frame for support as he stood before the younger doctors sitting at the table like a lecturer before a class.

In his distinct handwriting House had written the list of symptoms in thick black marker as a running record. So far it read; fever, headache, nausea, muscle pain, anaemia, seizures and kidney failure.

"No know genetic conditions on the mother's side," Foreman contributed. "The biggest problem the mum can recall a relative having is her aunt's kidney stones."

"And the boy with Manic Depression," House added.

"I think they prefer to be called Bipolar." Cameron asserted political correctness as she looked at House through her small framed glasses.

"And Siamese twins prefer to be called Conjoined Twins, but it's not going to happen."

"Wilson's side is clean except for his uncle's cancer," Cameron said next with a hint of defeat when it was clear he wasn't going to take her point.

"Chase what did the brother say?" House asked.

"Why did you talk to Alex?" Wilson spoke up suddenly from his seat at the end of the table. He stopped reading Suellen's blood work and charts to attack Chase. "It was a waste of time."

"I had Chase talk to him because as it's impossible for Suellen to confide in either you or your ex-wife he's the one most likely to know her secrets." House said before Chase could defend himself against the distressed farther. "Now keep your mouth shut before someone here remembers that you're a conflict of interest and throws you out."

Given his cue, Chase told the others what he'd got from his talk with the half brother. "Says she hasn't been eating much which is confirmed by her signs of sudden weight loss but he didn't know much else. Only that her real struggle has been with her emotions lately."

"The accident," House said with a nod.

"What if that's related to some of her symptoms?" Cameron asked suddenly looking at each of her coworkers in turn. "In some cases Post Traumatic Stress has been know to cause fever, headaches and fainting."

"She was so sad her kidneys shut down?" Foreman asked sarcastically raising his eyebrows at her and crossed his arms.

Cameron sighed impatiently then spoke only to House. "I'm saying that perhaps not all her symptoms are to be explained by the one condition. The fever, fainting and headaches could all be psychosomatic."

"Wouldn't push her temperature over 40C," Wilson objected.

House glanced at his friend momentarily then went on with the discussion. "The fever and other symptoms are far more likely to be connected with the seizures and kidney failure," he said ruling out Cameron's theory. "What else have you got?"

"Hepatitis C" Chase offered. "Explains the fatigue, fever and nausea. In severe cases it can present with neurological complications which can result in seizures."

"Don't write that down," Wilson said loudly in an offended tone just as the chemical tip of the marker was about to touch the board. "Hepatitis C is spread through fluids. She's never had a blood transfusion or sex."

The younger two of the male doctors dared a moment of eye contact with one another then looked away silently. Wilson had never been this difficult to work with before but now he was sharp and edgy, slamming the doctors' thoughts into the ground. When they'd arrived he'd reprimanded them for taking so long and every question Cameron had asked when taking his family history had been answered in a curt monosyllable. His attitude was understandable, but it didn't stop their frustration.

"Hey you were told!" House barked subduing the raging bull. "We can rule out environmental causes as no one else in the house is sick. Everyone from the baby to the parents are healthy."

"Shigellosis can present with seizures in children," Foreman suggested with a guard up for Wilson's likely next attack. "Explains everything except the kidneys. It's easy enough to catch."

"Lupus accounts for everything," Cameron said. "We may have caught it in its early stages. It's unlikely without a family link but still possible."

House wrote the auto immune disease down under Foreman's suggestion of food poisoning then snapped his fingers to encourage more ideas.

"These symptoms are typical of Meningitis. The infection could seriously weaken the body to a whole range of infections and viruses that could attack the kidneys," Chase offered an affliction that wasn't sexually transmitted.

"Have to do a Lumbar Puncture to be certain," the neurologist agreed with that prognosis.

"Whoa, whoa," much to their dismay Wilson began to talk again in a condescending manner. "You're going to subject a fifteen year old girl to a painful and dangerous test based purely on theory? I'm no neurologist but I'm pretty sure the chance of meningitis causing acute kidney failure is low. There's got to be a better explanation."

"If you've got one we'd love to hear it," Foreman said with a tone to match.

The oncologist opened his mouth to bark back when Cuddy came through the door in one of her notable low cut outfits. All of the doctors came to a halt, as her presence often made them do. Like a school teacher the sight of her commanded order and they always felt some unexplained feeling of guilt even when they were innocent.

"Hi there Doctor Cuddy," House said in a buoyant voice. "Nice breasts. Oh I mean nice outfit. Sorry about that, must be Freudian."

"Shut up," she didn't give the time to play with House. Instead she directed her attention to Wilson after quickly reading what was on the whiteboard.

"Doctor Wilson I need to speak with you." Cuddy's statement wasn't really a request but a way of phrasing her order politely without losing face.

"Can it wait?" Wilson said in a voice he'd never use on any other day. He glanced at her over his shoulder for only a second before looking back at House.

"Now Doctor Wilson." There was no question about it this time.

Grudgingly Wilson got to his feet and walked through the door Cuddy held open for him. Without thanking her he stormed down the hall to his office, his footsteps heavy with anger, his gaze set straight ahead and his coat flowing out behind him.

Cuddy gave a small sigh then acknowledged all of her employees with her blue eyes before turning on her high heels.

"Careful. He may bite," House called out after her but received no response.

All three specialists at the table sighed with relief and exchanged alleviated looks. It seemed even doctors could become difficult parents when their child was the undiagnosed patient. As if everything they knew about medicine and medical method had just flow out of the window. House took the lid off his marker and lent forward to write Hepatitis C to the list of possibilities.

"Ok good start," he said with more liberty now that the tension had been removed from the room. "Cameron, Foreman, you two go to the lab and run the tests for Shigellosis, Hep C, Lupus and spin her blood for anything else you can think of while you're down there. Chase, start her on antibiotics and check her blood pressure. And get me an ultrasound of her abdomen."

"What for?" the blonde asked giving House the same frown the other two were.

"She's looking a little yellow and according to Cleo magazine cherry blush is the in skin tone at the moment. I'm just looking after her image."

**(Part Two)**

Suellen lay motionless as she watched her brother bound around the room in a fit of panic. The less she moved the less it hurt so she couldn't sit up to grab Alex and settle him down without causing pain. Instead she only watched as his fit of mania ran its course.

In his hands Alexander was holding a large plastic bag and emptying its contents on the set of draws beside the bed that only contained a lunch menu and a bible.

"I brought your CDs and my discman to play them on because I know you lost your Ipod in the accident," the boy rambled frantically as he stacked the CDs into a tower and dug into the bag for more things that would comfort his sister. "I got your slippers here and a change of clothes and your toothbrush. I don't know if you'll do it but I brought your homework too and some biscuits if your hungry."

Suellen watched with her brown eyes as her brother threw her clothes onto the chest of draws with the biscuits sprinkling crumbs all over them.

"Did you get me some books?" she asked when Alex failed to produce the most important article.

"Yes, yes I did!" he shouted in frenzy and stuck his entire arm in the bag to retrieve the requested items. "I went by the book store this morning and got you a few of the latest best sellers."

"That would have been expensive."

"It's no problem! It's no problem!" Alex shouted down her concern before pulling out the paperback novels. A nurse passing the ICU looked through the glass with an expression of uncertainty so Suellen raised her hand in a small gesture of reassurance to keep her walking and not escalate the problem with an intrusion.

"I got you the new Ludlum novel, something by Matthew Riley and this by Steven King!" he cried triumphantly holding each book close to his sister's face before dropping them on the bed beside her. "And this! Have you read this?"

In his hand he held the last book, a large hard cover with a photo of a hawk on the front. At the top large letters spelt out, "A Guide to Ornithology."

"No," Suellen used the tenth of a second Alex allowed her to mumble an answer.

"Well don't!" he shouted and shook the book up and down. "It's all about birds! Birds! Birds! Bloody birds! Big birds! Small birds! Rare birds! Pretty birds! Ugly birds! And I think there's a picture of a brown bird in here somewhere. I know you don't want to read about birds but I didn't know what to buy because I panicked and because I'm very, very frightened."

The boy finally came to a stop and took a long, deep gulp of air. Since his arrival that morning he'd been on edge and had been forced to take an extra pill after Doctor Chase had spoken to him about his sister. He'd felt claustrophobic speaking to the doctor as if he was being interrogated even though the questions asked were simple. Alex also found he couldn't squash that uneasy feeling in his stomach that Suellen wouldn't get better.

"It's going to be ok Al," Suellen ignored what her body wanted and moved her arm so she could touch her brother's arm. "Doctor House is a brilliant diagnostician. A monomaniac bastard, but a brilliant doctor."

Alex nodded his head without looking at her and gulped deeply, closing his mouth to assist steadying his breathing.

"Now hand me my purse," Sullen said calmly pointing to her schoolbag in the corner. "I'll pay you back for the Steven King and Robert Ludlum novels but the other two were your own stupid fault."

Smiling at Suellen and his bad judgement Alex went to pick up her bag after putting the bird watching guide on top of sister's other possessions. He had grabbed the bag by its shoulder straps when Doctor Chase came through the open door.

"Hi Alex," he remembered the boy's name at the last minute and smiled warmly before turning to the girl. "How are you feeling Suellen?"

"Well I got some new books so I'm happy," she admitted letting her head fall back on the pillow. "But that aside pretty lousy."

"Don't worry we're all working on it," Chase reassured her as he stopped by her bed and strapped some velcro tightly around her arm. He then gave Alex another one of his charming smiles as the machine next to him automatically took Suellen's blood pressure.

"Could you give us a minute mate?"

"Sure," Alex said quietly with a nod. He had settled out of his mania now and was beginning his steady decline into quiet introversion that would later lead to depression. He put the schoolbag back down then walked to the door but came to a sudden halt as soon as his feet were over the threshold.

"Oh Sue," he said quickly. "I forgot to mention before but some guy called for you last night. A Dean Prescot or something. I told him you were in hospital and he said he was coming to see you."

"Dean is coming?" Suellen asked with both surprise and excitement. She pushed down on her hands to sit up but the light touch of Chase's fingers on her shoulder delivered a strong command that stopped her.

"Taking the train down from Trenton," Alex said with a nod then left.

There was a loud ripping sound from Chase taking the strap off her arm as Alex left. He took a pen from his breast pocket and wrote something on the chart he held up high so Suellen wouldn't succeed in her attempt to read off it.

"Ok I'm going to have to do an ultrasound of your abdomen now," he said confidently after sliding the chart into its holder at the end of the bed and wheeled the ultrasound unit over.

"You think I'm pregnant?" Suellen squawked.

"We use an ultrasound for a lot of other things too," Chase said with one of his dashing smiles. "House just wants to make sure that there aren't any other problems elsewhere."

"So in other words he's got a theory," Suellen asked with a dull expression and arched eyebrow.

Chase didn't answer that question to avoid a cross-examination. Suellen had a creepy ability to see through people's lies and pretences by conversing with them and observing their habits.

As the transducer rolled and pushed into different areas of her abdomen, Suellen pulled her lips in different directions and made strange faces as more and more of the sticky lubrication covered her skin. Turning her head to the left she looked up at the black and white screen that had Chase transfixed. Without the four years of medical school he'd had all she was able to see were grey blobs of differing contrasts.

"What's that big bit?" she asked wanting to expand her knowledge.

"Your liver," the young doctor said absently and touched the screen a few times to save the image to disk.

"Is it ok?"

"Just fine."

"How do you tell it all apart?"

"Your mother's been asking about you." Chase was quick to change the subject as he moved his hand to investigate her spleen.

"She can ask away," Suellen said bitterly and rolled her head back to look up at the roof. "I'm not really in the mood to put up with her right now."

Unlike Cameron, Chase had no desire to play reconciliation with his patients so he let the conversation end there. As much as he disapproved of her mother's actions, it was Suellen's issue and not his.

"Have you seen Dad?" she asked looking back at him.

"He's been riding us all morning," Chase said in a tone that revealed his piqued feelings for the oncologist. "He's with Cuddy at the moment though."

"Oh," was all Suellen could say for a second. What she'd just been told about Wilson's behaviour was far from what she'd expected. She'd thought Chase would say he was with a patient or at the very least talking to House. To hear that he'd removed his 'nice guy' mask to chastise his colleagues sounded too fantastic.

"Well when you see him," she said once Chase finished saving a few more pictures. "Could you tell him I'd like to see him?"

"I'll send him straight here," Chase promised.

If Wilson was sitting with Suellen, that meant he, Cameron and Foreman could work peacefully without him breathing down their necks. An angry Wilson was worse than House any day.

**(Part Three)**

Her clammy little fingertips touched the grainy texture of the plastic jug when she heard the whoosh of the door roll open. Her arm was stretched as far as it would go with her shoulder socket aching. Suellen knew she'd been busted and had only her carelessness to blame. She should have counted the factor of her father's arrival into the list of probable complications.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Wilson said what he always did when he witnessed improper behaviour. "You can't have anything to drink baby. With your kidneys in such a critical state they wont be able to pass liquids properly."

Wilson took the jug off the meal table and moved it out of Suellen's reach who dropped her arm in defeat. Relieved that the strain had ended her arm hung off the side of the bed swinging slightly from momentum.

"I'm thirsty," she protested piteously and adjusted her stiff neck to look Wilson in the eye.

"Yeah I know," he sighed before brushing some of her blonde hair off her face. With all the sweat her current fever was producing her hair had darked and stuck together in clumps that hung heavily from her scalp.

"Come on we've got to get these blankets off of you," Wilson changed his unfamiliar paternal tone to a common one of authority and grabbed two handfuls of linen under Suellen's chin pulling them down to the bottom of the bed leaving it to rest on her feet.

The pale lime hospital garments clung to her body from the moisture on her skin causing them to crumple and reveal the shape of her body beneath the fabric. Wilson could see her perfectly aligned ribcage rise and fall with every quick breath she took and the gaunt structure of her anatomy.

"No it's cold," Suellen whined but didn't move to put the covers back on. She couldn't, her body hurt too much to move and did she have the will to motivate herself. It even hurt to think.

"Can I have an aspirin? My head hurts."

"Sorry Honey but they'll thin your blood and your red cell count is too low as it is."

Suellen groaned sadly and rolled her head to the other side. She'd had headaches before-everyone had, but she felt as though her entire brain was throbbing inside her skull. Vibrating like a stereo playing an endless record pounding and shaking away sending tremors through her entire body.

An unexpected cold sensation touched her brow and she pulled away in both surprise and alarm. Opening her weary eyes she saw that Wilson was dabbing her hot skin with a wet face washer to try and bring her temperature down. Suellen knew that her fever must have been high for her to be this sweaty and for her doctors to be this concerned but underneath the sweltering skin she was freezing, as if the temperature of her blood had plummeted. She shivered again as the wet cloth touched her neck sending chills through her.

Tenderly Wilson slid his hand under her's and held the face washer to her wrist. Suellen rolled her head back to face him and in her soft voice said the first thing that came to mind.

"I didn't know you owned jeans."

The attire that Wilson had worn that morning which Suellen was accustomed to was gone. Wilson was no longer wearing one of his pressed shirts with a silk tie clipped to it, a sensible pair of trousers, shinny black lace up shoes and his mandatory lab coat with pocket protector. Instead he now wore a pair of denim jeans, a grey T-shirt and runners. His light brown hair had darkened a few shades from the water that hadn't dried yet, holding his hair tightly to his scalp. His fingertips were warm on Suellen's skin and the scent of shower gel still lingered in his skin.

"I managed to keep a single pair hidden from Julie at the bottom of my draw," he admitted with a small smile.

"Julie's not going to be happy," Suellen warned. "Jeans are too middle class for her taste."

"Yeah well I'm not all that concerned about what she thinks any more."

That took Suellen's mind away from her pain. She tilted her head up higher on the pillow so she could look Wilson clearly in the face holding her gaze until he'd taken the cloth away from her wrist and met her eyes. Suellen wasn't sure what she saw in them though.

There was a definite sadness harbouring in the brown orbs but it didn't match his tone so Suellen wasn't sure if was Julie he was upset about. Wilson's eyelids weren't ringed by red so he hadn't been crying but there was more than grief in those eyes. Concern? Lament? Secrets? Woe? She couldn't figure it out.

The other thing she couldn't understand was if Wilson only looked that way when he looked at her. Then that would mean he wasn't handling her ordeal as well as she thought.

"Good move. Someone who has an affair then breaks up with her husband through a fax machine doesn't deserve my Dad," she said finally and closed her eyes again. She didn't want to sleep because then she'd dream those horrible dreams but her eyelids demanded a rest.

"Is that so Suellen?" There was a hint of humour in his voice as Wilson reached over her and ran the moist face washer down the inside of her arm.

"Damn right, you were mine first."

The corners of Wilson's mouth rose then parted as he grinned. The movement felt almost unusual as it had been so long since he'd genuinely smiled. Suellen's breathing steadied into an even rhythm as she involuntarily slipped into slumber no longer feeling the cold water against her burning skin.

Wilson called her name once and when he received no response put the cloth back into the water bowl and left it there. Now that Suellen was asleep he didn't have to pretend any more. Her temperature was over forty and he knew that the only thing that could relieve it was a cure for her condition.

He also knew that there was nothing he could do.

**(Part Four)**

"Ok what have we got?" House asked his team once all three of them were standing in front of him in their office.

"I take it Wilson wont be joining us?" Foreman asked suspiciously as he watched House swing his good leg back and forth as he sat on their conference table.

"Nope," the infamous diagnostician replied but didn't look up. He was too transfixed with the Rubix Cube was twisting and turning in this hands.

"That wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that you called Cuddy and made her put Wilson on compassionate leave?" the neurologist continued trying to make House look at him.

"No need to thank me," House said casually and stopped moving his fingers momentarily once he'd gotten all of the red pieces together on one side. "Now I think there was a sick kid we were working on wasn't there?"

"Everything we ran came up negative," Foreman informed him. "We're back to square one."

"Not quite," Chase spoke up opening the manilla folder in his hands and put the ultrasound images up against the light box for all to see. "You were right House, the ultrasound revealed both an enlarged liver and spleen. The blood tests confirm it, her liver's shutting down."

Both Cameron and Foreman walked forward to examine the images closely but House kept his ground, having already realised what the results had to say without needing to see them.

"How long will it hold out?" Cameron asked without taking her eyes off the scans.

"Not long. I've started her treatment but without a full diagnosis three days at most."

"I'll go see Cuddy and get her on the transplant list."

"Don't bother," House put an end to his minion's banter with his gruff tone. "No one is going to give a donor liver to a kid with kidney failure and with her spleen in its current state she wont survive the surgery. Either we find the source of the problem and fix it or she dies. No second chances with transplant organs this time."

The three silent medical experts watched as House put his toy down and limped to the board to add the recent developments to the symptoms list. When he finished writing he turned to look at his resident neurologist.

"Get me a Lumbar Puncture."

**(Author's Note)**

Hey everyone, sorry this chapter has taken so long to get to you but I've had a lot of stuff to do for uni these past few weeks so I had to put all my time into that. My thanks to AineMorrigan, estrella06 and Caitiri for their constant support and for being my regular reviewers. Much appreciated. Sorry about the unclear paragraph breaks but the editing section of the uploading process is on the blink so I can't add paragraph lines for some reason, sorry. Hopefully there'll be more soon but bye for now!


	9. Chapter 9

Hey everyone! Sorry about the delay especially with the last chapter cliffhanger. If got a lot of writing here for you though so that should appease you for the time being. These next few weeks I'm going to be busy with final assignments and tying up loose ends at uni so I wont have much time to work on this fic. I thought it would be better to write one really long chapter than two publish one cliffhanger then have you all wait for the other incomplete half so here it is. I wanted to get it up soon so there may be a typo or two towards the end, my apologises. I've also got my favourite quote from the film Ten Things I Hate About You which got me a luchtime detention when I said it in High School Lit class- see if you can spot it! My thanks to all the readers but especially the ever faithful AineMorrigan, estrella06, Emerald124 and Caitiri for their reviews. Thanks a lot and let's hope your habit catches on. Read and Review!

* * *

The Intensive Care Unit where the hospital records had listed 'Wilson, Suellen' as the resident patient was quiet.

Silence in a hospital wasn't really unusual, it was actually closer to normal. The ER and Clinic areas were always bustling with life, voices and general pandemonium but there was usually a general quiet to the other wards. This was usually from sleeping patients, sombre family members meditating in the waiting room or the common case of death.

However the silence in Suellen's room was one of tension as she dreaded what was about to happen.

A few minutes before Foreman had arrived with a clipboard and had asked for Wilson to step outside into the waiting area where Martha sat on the sofas with a paper coffee cup. Through the glass wall segmented into narrow strips by the vertical blinds Suellen had watched as Doctor Foreman spoke to her parents. When he'd finished Wilson had been the first to talk.

They were too far away for Suellen to hear but she immediately recognised Wilson's reflex of putting his hands on his hips. She'd seen it enough times to know he was either annoyed or objecting. Suellen assumed the former as she couldn't fathom a reason why he'd be unhappy with Foreman, so far he'd done everything right and if he had an issue with her treatment he would've have spoken to Chase, the primary.

Martha stretched her neck upwards and turned her face back and forth between the standing men. Suellen could only see half of her expression because of where James was standing but her mother seemed confused, waiting for one of them to explain what they were talking about. The doctors spoke for a few seconds more then Wilson's arms fell to his sides.

Foreman had won.

Suellen watched as Wilson took the clipboard and turned his face away to say something to Martha before he signed the paper and forced it back into Foreman's hands roughly making him fumble.

Wilson walked back into the ward coolly but Suellen got the impression it was pretence. His lips were forced into a tight line too firmly as if to stop his face from making the expression his emotions wanted. His stride was heavy too, as though he sneakers were weighing down his feet as they carried all of his anxiety in them.

"What's news?" Suellen asked as cheerfully as she could but it came out as more of a croak as her throat was parched. She thought if she showed confidence maybe Wilson would incorrectly think she wasn't worried.

"You're going to need a Lumbar Puncture done," he said it straight and sat heavily on the stool Alex had threatened him with the night before. His charming ability to break bad news wasn't there as he told her that. Ever since Chase had informed them about the liver and spleen complications an hour ago Wilson had been unable to see the situation the same way.

This wasn't another one of House's cases any more and he was no longer the assisting doctor. Suellen was in real danger with two major organs failing and a rapidly declining red cell count. He felt sick just thinking about it, a jittery feeling shaking him on the inside that he couldn't throw. Professionalism told him to stay calm and remain objective but paternity told him to be afraid and behave irrationally.

"What's that?" Suellen asked with apprehension.

She knew what 'Puncture' was sure enough- a deep tear or piercing of a surface, but 'Lumbar' wasn't in her vernacular vocabulary. She guessed something medical and that lead her to think of the human anatomy and when she put the two words together she thought of something sharp in her skin.

"A needle in your spine," Wilson answered gravely looking her in the eyes to catch her immediate reaction. "Foreman needs to collect a sample of spinal fluid for some tests. He and House think you have Meningitis."

Suellen wasn't familiar with the disease but knew she should worry. The description of Lumbar Puncture was enough to rattle her but what really frightened her was Wilson's reaction. She'd never seen him behave this way. When he'd taken care of her nose he had been scattered but he was beginning to lose his grip now.

His hands were resting low on his thighs right above the knees his large fingers spread apart in star shapes with the tips curled, fingernails hidden from view by the denim they clutched. His hands had become claws desperately holding onto a lifeline slowly splitting at the centre.

Breathing through her bruised nose Suellen filled her lungs and gulped down the bubble in her throat before she spoke.

"Dad," her voice was taut as she used all of her energy to stop the nervous tremors that threatened to shake her speech. "I can keep Alex together when he's losing it but I need you to stay calm. I can't hold you together."

Suellen watched Wilson's claws spread back into fingers and he nodded his head quickly. Their eyes didn't meet though, he seemed to look straight through her as if he was busy telling himself to do what she asked rather than answering her.

"It'll be ok," he said but he didn't know if it was to her or to himself.

They weren't tortured with a long wait as soon there a shadow at the door and Foreman come in carrying a metal tray with various medical pieces balanced on top. Suellen caught a second's glance at the large needle then looked down at the sheets. Panicking wasn't the solution to her problem, she knew that she had to follow all of her doctors' instructions if they were to diagnose her and that her father, one of the country's leading oncologist wouldn't have given his consent unless he thought the test absolutely necessary.

"Should I get a nurse?" Foreman asked Wilson as he set the tray down on the cart and picked up a pair of rubber gloves.

"No I got it," he answered heavily and stood up.

He slipped one of his warm hands under Suellen's shoulder and encouraged her to lean forward. He then pulled the pillow out from behind her and instructed her to roll on her side in a quiet voice.

Confused by the private conversation between her father and his colleague Suellen obeyed his instructions with a sense of restlessness. What would Foreman need the nurse for? What was Wilson going to do while he performed the Lumbar Puncture? This test would be uncomfortable but surely it didn't deserve such a ominous reaction as the one they were giving it.

"Wrap your arms around the pillow like you're hugging it and pull your knees up," Wilson said putting one hand on her hip and another on her shoulder. She could feel the light touch of cloth on her back as Foreman untied her gown.

"Take a deep breath Sue," she heard Foreman say and breathed in deeply waiting for the pain.

There was a sharp prick in her back that made her grimace then vanished.

"That wasn't so bad," she said feeling a little surprised and secretly proud of her strength against something that had gotten her father so worked up.

"That was just the Novocaine," Foreman explained sounding crestfallen for having to tell her that there was worse pain to come.

"Isn't that the stuff dentists use?" Suellen asked with a puzzled frown twisting her neck slightly to look up at Wilson thinking he would provide an answer.

"It's a regular anaesthetic," Foreman said and finished screwing the large syringe together. His latex covered fingers touched the divot on Suellen's side between her bottom rib and her hip to help his co-ordination. The sharp tip of the needle touched the skin at the lower vertebrae and Foreman's dark eyes flicked up to see Wilson nod.

The needle broke through the skin and drove into Suellen's spine sending intense pain to every part of her body. The section of her brain that controlled sensation went into overload telling the rest of her body of the agony she was going through. The pain was suffocatingly hot and as her thoughts jumped and flared radically in her mind Suellen thought of a lobster inside a pot of boiling water with its body beginning to cook while it was still alive.

A few droplets escaped Suellen's mouth as she spluttered from shock before her teeth clashed together, pushing against each other forcefully to stop herself from screaming. Between her white teeth whimpers slipped through and from deep in her throat a gurgling whine rose.

"It's ok Honey, it's ok," Wilson kept whispering as he increased the amount of weight bearing down on Suellen to hold her steady as her fingers clawed the pillow under her chin.

"Hang in there baby," he said louder when he saw Suellen clamped her eyes closed to hold back the salty water that had started to slide down her cheeks.

Foreman pushed the syringe for a final millimetre then with great caution colleted the transparent fluid that dripped out from her spine. Holding the tube steady he sacrificed a moment's watch to look at Wilson.

The oncologist was tortured. The anguish Foreman saw in his face as he watched his daughter choke back sobs alarmed him. A sweat not caused by heat was sprouting on his brow and his Adam's Apple travelled up and down his throat with every deep nervous swallow.

Suellen was the patient, but the one coming apart was Wilson.

* * *

"Alex says you've got a friend coming to see you," Wilson said intending to take Suellen's mind away from her condition.

Foreman had taken his sample down to the lab for the Meningitis test nearly three hours ago and since then Wilson had been talking about every topic he could think of. Babbling about completely irrelevant things to keep the focus away from the fact she was dying without a know reason.

"You and my brother are getting together to talk about me behind my back?" Suellen asked indignantly, responding to what Wilson said for the first time in nearly half an hour.

She was now lying flat on her back with a single pillow under her head. Once the test had been completed Wilson had adjusted the bed to a completely horizontal position and had strongly described the importance of remaining still after a Lumbar Puncture.

"He asked me for loose change for the drink machine," he defended himself with an innocent shrug. "What's your friend like? Guy or girl?"

"You're not going to like him Dad," Suellen said bluntly.

"That's quite an assumption," Wilson crossed his arms and looked at her challengingly. "How do you know that for sure?"

"I didn't even like him to start with. Dean's like a bad dog that digs up your front garden. You shouldn't like him, but you do," she said a little surprised with her profundity considering her condition.

"Doesn't mean we'll share the same opinion." Wilson knew he was being antagonistic but he wanted to keep Suellen talking for as long as possible to stop her from lapsing into depression.

"Let's just see shall we?" she gestured weakly to someone behind Wilson and the glass door of the room rolled open.

Wilson turned on the stool to get his first look at Dean Prescot. A tall boy with a built body, he appeared shabby in the oversized jeans that stopped above his ankles and the leather jacket marked with cigarette burns and beer stains. Against his jet black combed hair and dark eyes his skin was ghostly white and his thick eyebrows were in a position that gave him an unwelcoming impression.

Wilson disliked him immediately.

Dean dropped his backpack from his shoulder letting it fall carelessly on the floor and stopped around the bed by Suellen without so much as a momentary glance in Wilson's direction. He took a long look at Suellen and his stern features shifted into an aghast expression similar to the one Hollywood stars wear in those brutal slasher films where the teenage protagonist opens a door and finds six of his friends butchered by a homicidal manic with a gardening tool.

With his untrustworthy eyes he saw Suellen's hair matted and messy slicked against her skull by the sweat that coated her skin. Her face was a mixture of unfavourable colours with the dull yellow jaundice, dark rings under her eyes, fading bruises around her healing nose and red lines of fatigue running through her eyes. Her petite lips were chapped from lack of moisture and the needle in the back of her hand connected her to three different IV bags.

"You should see the other guy," Suellen joked attempting a smile.

Dean smirked revealing the faint tobacco stains on his teeth and put his hand out so his fingers dangled limply above Suellen's hand.

"How's it going buddy?" he asked lowly.

Suellen moved her wrist to reach for Dean's offered hand, wrapping her fingers around his lengthy digits. She squeezed them gently making the heart monitor attached to her index finger push against Dean's knuckle before letting go.

"Being in hospital blows," she answered with a light sigh.

Wilson cleared his throat and both teens halted their reunion to look at him, Suellen with a questioning look and Dean with a condescending one.

"Oh yeah," Suellen said after a second and looked back at the boy standing beside her. "Dean this is my Dad, James Wilson. Dad this is my friend Dean Prescot."

"How's it going Pops?" Dean said in a stodgy voice then turned back to Suellen.

Wilson was slightly unbalanced by that, his posture slipping and his position on the stool wavering a bit. He wasn't sure what got to him more, the boy's lack of proper etiquette or the fact he'd been properly acknowledged as a father- something that hadn't happened in years.

"Please don't call me that," he said sternly and didn't try to hide a frown.

Dean raised one of his dark eyebrows and wiggled his neck and shoulders expressing his blatant disregard for anything Wilson thought and his disagreeable attitude. His eyes challenged him to start something, the black orbs twinkling with smug overconfidence.

It was that expression that made Wilson recall that they'd already met.

At the docks, the day after the Albatross had sunk where he'd pushed through the crowds to claim the child he'd thought he'd lost Dean had been the one with his arm around Suellen. He remembered the protective hold he'd had around his daughter and how when he'd gotten close Dean had nearly punched him in the jaw.

What was going on between them?

There was a sound of wood striking the floor and Wilson knew House had arrived. All three looked over to see him leaning in the doorway tapping his cane rhythmically on the tiles as he observed the scene before him with the same amount of attention he gave his soap opera.

"Excuse me _Pops_," he said factiously to his friend. "We need to speak. Mind stepping outside for a minute?"

"Ah, sure," the disorientated oncologist said and got off of the stool. He rubbed Suellen's arm comfortingly and promised to be back soon before he went out of the room, taking a second to give Dean a glare that said, 'Don't try anything.'

Wilson watched the two of them talk until he'd closed the door all the way. He then turned to speak to House and jumped with fright when he saw his three team members hovering side by side behind him. Together they stood just out of view of the ICU so that the patient wasn't aware of their presence.

Wilson was immediately suspicious.

"Need a consult," House began in a tone too leisurely to be true. He bore his bright blue eyes into Wilson's warm brown ones with such intensity that it unnerved him. "Patient showing all the trademark symptoms of Hairy Cell Leukemia. What would the Head of Oncology suggest to make a definite diagnosis?"

In a moment of gullibility Wilson relaxed, expelling a loud sigh and allowed his shoulders to sag. For a moment he'd thought House had come to report more bad news of his daughter's condition.

"Do a spleen biopsy," he said wearily rubbing the skin on his face which had stiffened from his recent lack of sleep and the draining hours of stress. "Get Brown to help you, Cuddy's put him in charge while I'm on leave."

"Great plan," House said an octave louder than he needed to and made a fast gesture of jubilation with his hand. "So if you'll just sign the consent form the lovely Doctor Cameron is holding we'll get an OR ready."

A cold sensation of mixed dread and disbelief trickled through Wilson's body as he realised he'd fallen straight into House's nefarious trap. He swallowed with difficulty but he held the same vacant expression for a moment more before he took control again and narrowed his eyes.

"You can't do a spleen biopsy on Suellen," he said without any room for debate.

"Well not to be paradoxical but you just said-"

"Take a bone marrow sample for analysis," Wilson snapped quickly. "Her red and platelet counts are in the dumps. Any kind of surgery is too risky in her current condition. She could bleed out and won't be able to clot."

"Bone marrow's indeterminable in her present state," House had changed his tone to compete with Wilson's and his charming eyes had hardened to match the opposing ones. "A biopsy of the spleen is the only way to know for sure."

"You can run tests for HTLV and ATLV. If she does have Hairy Cell then she should have those as well."

"Great," House lightened his tone to a nasty sarcasm, "the lab should give us the results in about six hours, which should leave us another six to work before her kidneys die. That could make a diagnosis very difficult though."

"We can start her on dialysis now to support her kidneys until the results come back."

"Dialysis is pointless when the kidneys are unresponsive to any treatment we've given her so far and even if they do respond they'll only hold out long enough for her liver to shut down. It's a lose lose situation Wilson use your head."

Beginning to panic caused by his recently awoken potent paternal instincts Wilson took a deep breath to keep up with House's objections and provide proper argument.

"I could donate part of my liver to buy some time."

"You're a different blood type," House told him feeling truly sorry for his friend but his duty to his patient stopped him from relenting. "We've already checked. Your kid is cursed with O negative blood type. You're A positive and there is no way she'd survive the transplant surgery. You said that yourself."

"What about…"

"Oh stop it Wilson!" House yelled cutting Wilson off and bringing those around him to a stop. Through the glass walls he could see Suellen and her friend looking out at them with inquisitive expressions. Then in a lower voice he spoke exclusively to Wilson, ignoring the three behind him.

"This is difficult for you but I need you to remember for just one minute that you are a doctor and to think like one. She is dying and preventing the biopsy is destroying what may be the only chance she has. We can't treat for anything else until we're sure that this isn't cancer and any other surgery will kill her. Do what you would recommend for any one of your patients."

The three younger doctors excluded from the debate wisely remained silent but watched captivated as Wilson deflated. His shoulders slumped and his angry face faded away. He craned his neck back to look up at the ceiling lights with despair as he accepted his defeat. He then pulled his head forward again and let out a shaky sigh.

"Give me the forms," he said unwillingly to Cameron who handed him the clipboard and pen with her most sympathetic expression.

Wilson's lightless eyes skipped the legal jargon and medical information going straight to the dotted line at the bottom. He put the tip of the ballpoint to the paper and signed his name in his illegible scrawl. As he added the dot to the 'I' he felt as if he'd just put the first nail in his child's coffin.

House took the document from his hands and spoke to his crew without looking at them. "Get an anesthesiologist and go scrub in. I'll bring her up in ten."

Obediently the three of them complied with his order leaving him and his only friend alone together.

* * *

The Operating Room the Diagnostics team had occupied of the simple spleen biopsy was the smallest as the procedure would only take close to twenty minutes without any hassles. Foreman was hunched over Suellen collecting the tissue sample as she lay on the table in a gown with blue surgery cloth over her chest. There was a small square in the cloth revealing her yellowed skin and the small incision where Foreman had inserted the medical tools.

Chase kept a constant vigil on the monitors to his side that recorded her heart rate and other vitals and the anesthesiologist they'd recruited stood close to the operating table in case they'd be any need for sudden sedation. Cameron meanwhile distracted Suellen from the operation with light conversation.

The plan had originally been to put her under a general anaesthetic for the process but before the anesthesiologist had administered the dose she'd grabbed his hand and asked if there was another option. Suellen told them quite determinedly that she would like to stay awake so she would know exactly what they were doing with her body.

It wasn't distrust she assured them, she just wanted to be in the loop. So as a compromise the anesthesiologist had given her a local anaesthetic to numb the area the other doctors worked on.

"I saw the books your brother brought you Sue," Cameron spoke with her eyes twinkling merrily over her cloth mask, "are they any good?"

Suellen scrunched her motley coloured face in repugnance before she made a rejecting sound. "Bah. Nothing but overrated formulaic airport novels used to distract the simple minded and those looking for an escape from their monotonous day."

"Certainly hope you don't become a literary reviewer Sue," Chase grumbled. "You'll drive new writers to suicide."

"Nonsense," Suellen couldn't say that with as much vigour as she would have liked thanks to the drugs but her expression conveyed a pesky attitude. "Constructive criticism is a blessing for writers. Helps to improve their craft. One harsh comment can spurn them into a creative frenzy that will produce a masterpiece to prove the critic wrong."

"You think Hemmingway set out to prove his critics wrong?"

"Hemmingway? Hemmingway was nothing more than an abusive misogynist alcoholic who spent his lifetime hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers!" Suellen spat vehemently. "He lacked any true talent so he made his cash writing morose pieces in minimalist style and used the Iceberg Theory to justify the lack of detail he wasn't capable of producing. It seems all you need to do to be proclaimed a 'Great American Writer' is be a reclusive bastard who drinks himself to death."

Nobody said anything further on that subject of Literature.

The anesthesiologist visually scanned his tools to make sure he'd given the right amount of anaesthetic. If this girl needed another operation before her discharge she was definitely going to be put under, no excuses accepted.

Upstairs in the viewing area Wilson sat hunched in a chair with his finger locked together tightly watching the scene below intently as House drummed his cane on the floor rhythmically. The two sat side by side in fold up chairs used for students taking notes on operations and on the miniature table by his elbow Wilson had left the sandwich wrapper and empty bottle House had supplied for his lunch shortly before.

"Kid's a total punk," he spat viciously but kept an anxious look in his eyes as he watched Foreman expertly take a spleen sample. "Has a skulking look about him that I don't like and I know from listening to him he's trouble. Got no respect and a smart mouth. Can't see why Suellen deals with him."

"You can't?" House asked incredulously averting his gaze to look at Wilson.

"Oh she's a handful," the fragile father picked up House's implication and straightened in his seat. "But she's not a bad kid. She's got a certain…let say _penchant_ for trouble but she doesn't go looking for it. That Dean though practically has a neon sign above his head saying 'crook.' He's just bad news waiting to happen."

"Be terrible if she was involved with him," House said casually and waited for the reaction.

"You think she is?" Wilson asked frantically.

"No. I don't."

House very charitably passed up the opportunity to mess with his friend's head partly out of sympathy but mostly from the fact he was too tired to bother after working nearly thirty hours straight.

"How can you be so sure?"

"For a start he calls her buddy, not bitch, indicating feelings of friendship rather than affection and possession. He came down from Trenton by his own means so obviously there's a bond, I'm guessing from a debt or favour which tells he's loyal to her. Plus and he hasn't made a move on her, and believe me, if I was a horny teenage bad boy I would be all over that piece in a second."

"Hey!"

"Relax Pops," House rolled his eyes contemptuously at his friend's inherent paternal protection impulse and the door opened on the far side of the room.

Both men looked over to see Martha come through the door. James watched her for a second then turned his attention back to the operating theatre on the floor below considering his once wife unworthy of his regard. House took a moment more to privately appraise her and note her change in his wide library of facts and thoughts.

Martha was a far cry from the woman who had waged war with Wilson yesterday when she'd tapped her high heels impatiently and picked cotton balls off of her lavish outfit. Now she was dressed in a baggy blue woollen jumper and black leggings with runners on her feet. Her peroxided hair hadn't been teased and styled with numerous bobby pins and secured with hairspray, instead left to hang freely behind a simple headband.

Slowly she crept up beside her ex-husband holding her elbows in unease and looked down at her daughter holding conversation with the doctors who took a tissue sample.

"How is she?" she asked quietly scared of a hostile response.

"Lousy but probably a lot better than if I'd left her to you to shove more pills down her throat," Wilson said on a heavy exhale without turning his head.

"James I..."

"Don't start," Wilson raised a hand to stop her and turned his head slightly sideways with annoyance. "Now is really not the best time for you to give me a plaintive apology Martha and if you want to defend yourself don't bother, I won't give what you say a first thought, let alone a second one."

Martha's hurt face studied his to detect the smallest scrap of insincerity or weakness but she found only bitterness and resentment. House raised his eyebrows and muttered "Snap" to himself but didn't say anything to her.

"She wont listen to me, she wont let me in her room to see her not even to apologise," Martha rushed undeterred by Wilson's bid to silence her. "Alexander wont speak to me now. I know you've been running test but I haven't spoken to any of the doctors since the Lumbar Puncture. They're all coming to you. Have they found anything yet? Any ideas? I know you must know what they're thinking if you're letting them do this to her. Tell me James. Please! She's my daughter!"

As she caught her breath both Martha and House waited for Wilson's reaction. His stance wasn't changed any by her impassioned speech but he'd heard everything and was contemplating it. What he thought about it though was indeterminable. Wilson had been so out of character these past few days it was impossible for even House to predict his next action.

He wanted her punished that he knew that for sure. To shame her for slipping his child anti-depressant medication so she could avoid dealing with Suellen's muddled emotions and tormenting memories and for prohibiting the mourning of her best friend. To judge her for the years of attacking his poor parenting when she was the one who'd jeopardised Suellen's health. And for always being so damn difficult.

But did he want her to suffer? His instinctive answer was a definite yes but that would be crossing the line into cruelty and was that something he was prepared to do? To torture her in the worst way he could? Make her suffer more than she already was watching her eldest child die? Was he really prepared to do something so abominable and amoral for his own ill will?

"She is _our_ daughter Martha, _mine_ as well as your's. And don't for one minute think that this is any harder for you than it is for me. You got it?"

Wilson's speech after his long stretch of silence surprised both of his companions who'd been weighing the probability of him answering or ignoring the questions against each other. House had actually expected Wilson to say something cutting or dismissive, not express his possessiveness.

"They're performing a spleen biopsy-running another test," he followed up succinctly to ease her mind temporarily and to spare him from answering any more questions. "We won't know anything until we take it to the lab."

Martha nodded her head and some of the weight she'd been carrying fell away. "Can you at least tell me what the test is for?" she asked not wishing to push Wilson's generosity any further.

Her vengeful first husband looked at her then and held back the answer, unsure and tentative of her possible reaction. In that moment of uncertainty he let professionalism rule, giving her the same courteously he would to any parent asking about their child's condition under his care.

"Cancer."

What happened next happened so rapidly the impetuousness of it startled House.

Martha moved to run for the door and Wilson lunged sideways to grab her. Holding her thin arm tightly he sprang from his seat and caught her opposite wrist in his other hand. Wilson then twirled her around as though they were dancing so they faced the opposite direction they'd been in seconds before. As she struggled to release herself from his grip the walls inside Martha crumbled setting free the emotions and thoughts she'd kept at bay for fifteen years.

"Damn you James! Damn you!" she screamed hysterically as tears ran down her face and she tried to beat her fists against his chest. "How could you? It was one thing to say that you didn't love me any more but you don't even love Suellen! You don't love your kid! You don't love your kid!"

"It's ok Martha! It's ok!" Wilson shouted over her now wearing the same grievous expression as he was thrown into a frenetic state by her words. "I'll put this right! It's going to be ok!"

The sound of machines screaming and the sight of House standing brought them to an immediate halt. Before Wilson had even released her he and Martha were at the glass to see what was going on below them.

"She's crashing!" Chase shouted as he saw the flat lines on the monitors and watched the numbers drop.

Suellen's eyes were closed and her limp body unresponsive to the noise around her as the doctors moved in to help. Hastily Foreman removed the surgical tools from her body with a blood-covered piece of spleen held at the tip of the metallic point.

"You must have caused a bleed!" Cameron shouted as she flashed her tiny torch into Suellen's eyes. "Pupils unresponsive."

"No! No bleed! It's a clean job!" Foreman shouted and moved clear away as Chase raced forward with the cardiac cart.

"It's her heart!" he told them and there was a humming noise of the paddles charging in his hands. "Charging…Clear!"

He pushed the paddles to her chest making Suellen's body rise sharply off the table in an unnatural arc before it fell powerlessly back down with a thump. Her head rolled to the side but the machines continued to screech horribly.

"Not getting a pulse," Cameron said hastily holding her fingertips to Suellen's wrist then dropped it when Chase reapproached with the paddles.

"Clear!" he shouted and again the teen's body lurched skyward by the electricity sent to her heart. She crashed against the table and there was a steady beep repeating behind them.

All three doctors watched the monitor intently as the squiggly line ran across the screen recording a stable heartbeat. Once Cameron found a pulse Chase replaced the paddles to the cart and Foreman attached an oxygen mask to Suellen's face.

"Her red count's worse," Cameron said pulling the mask from her face so that her colleagues could hear her clearly. "Soon there wont be enough to supply oxygen to her body. She'll suffocate with her lungs working perfectly."

* * *

Sitting in the darkness of Suellen's hospital room Dean twiddled an unlit cigarette in his fingers. The stick of white paper looped and twirled through his fingers and over his knuckles as he sat on the cold tiles with his back against the wall and legs outstretched. Close by the machines beeped and sighed as they kept watch on her vitals and hanging over his head were three IV bags. Two clear ones of medications he couldn't pronounce and a dark red bag with 'Type O-' written across it.

The only noise apart from the machines was Suellen's heavy breaths, each puff clouding the mask with moisture. The nurses had dimmed the lights so she could sleep but she stayed awake, lying perfectly still with her eyes open a crack feeling the pain in her chest where the anaesthetic was wearing off.

Something had gone wrong in the operating room that much she could tell for herself, but none of her doctors had been around when she'd awoke. The nurses who came in to record her progress refused to answer any questions and had ordered sleep. These same nurses were the ones who had kicked Dean out at the end of visiting hours and the same ones he hid from under the bed every ten minutes when they came in. Which is why he was now hiding on the floor where the bed blocked him from sight in the hall.

"When I first saw you I thought you were going to be one of those whiny princesses," he said twirling the cigarette looking across the room into the far darkness. "Boy was I wrong."

"When I said all that cruel shit you smacked me so hard and so fast I didn't know what hit me. Made it clear you were enough to match me and any other bastard wanting to play you. You're one tough cookie Suellen."

He laughed then, not his usual nasty jeering laugh but a light and calm one that made him happy again for a moment as he studied his memories.

"First I thought you were suicidal, then insane. Then after a while I thought you were indestructible. Working like a draught horse day and night, slaving away with the sails, scrubbing floors, singing shanties and writing up every scrap of school work against any clear flat surface you could find."

Suellen sighed and looking up Dean saw that she was listening to him peacefully attempting to take her mind away from the pain and discomfort that refused to yield.

"I remember," Dean dared to go an octave louder so Suellen could hear what he had to tell her for certain. "The first storm we hit after setting out. We'd been at sea for two weeks breaking out backs heaving ropes and learning how to control the bloody ship without Skipper screaming at us. Smooth sailing all the way. Then one afternoon BAM! Grey skies, rain and the Albatross is rolling around all over the place. We were all over the side spewing and falling over like a pack of retards except for you. You held onto the wheel and took us through that storm without stopping once. Just kept her steady, watched the sea and kept going like the gutsy mongrel you are. You remember that?"

Suellen did.

Her shoulders rose up to her chin as she cringed. Behind her she could hear the rest of the crew releasing their stomach contents into the choppy waves overboard. Beneath them the schooner rose and fell, rose and fell making their stomachs flip and their feet slip.

Body excrements had never bothered Suellen before, having two much younger siblings had made her immune to pungent liquids and heavy nappies but thirteen teenagers standing in line hurling was enough to push her limit.

_Suellen dared a glance over her shoulder to see Simon hanging limply over the side as bile and digested foot sprang from his open mouth. He closed her mouth again, turned his feet around and let himself fall to the deck in a heap. In one hand he held his glasses and nursed his forehead in his other. His face had gone the same green colour as the sea and his lips sticky with vomit. _

_Suellen felt something squeeze her chin and pull her face forward to give her a clear view of the bow. _

"_Don't worry about them," she heard Skipper say beside her as he pinched her bottom jaw. "They can handle themselves. You've got a job to do." _

"_Should I turn her away?" Suellen asked not bold enough to pull out of his hold. _

"_Can't run from the wind love," Skipper was pleased to hear her ask a question relevant to her task and released her chin from between his rough fingers. "Hold her north and keep her steady. We'll just have to ride this out." _

_Suellen was amazed at how unperturbed Skipper was. Rain drizzled in from West soaking his clothes, waves rocked his vessel and nearly his entire crew was out of action rolling on the deck clutching their stomachs. Yet there he was smiling watching the sea from behind his sunglasses holding a cup of coffee as casually as if they were docked in the Bahamas. _

_Feeling something move in her stomach Suellen gripped the wheel tighter and clamped her mouth shut as her body began to jerk. _

"_Oops wait a second," Skipper said leisurely and set his coffee down before reaching for the bucket by his feet. _

_Suellen deposited her own stomach content into the plastic bucket then re erected herself to check the compass before turning the wheel a notch starboard to maintain a north course. At her side she spied Skipper throwing the muck from the bucket overboard. The liquid spread and separated in the air before spiralling down into the water. _

"_Don't make me say it again," Skipper warned in a musical tone without even turning around. _

_Suellen found Skipper's ability to know about everything on board both in and out of his sight creepy and weird. It was like the man was a part of the Albatross itself. For Skipper there were only two things, his wife Alice and the Albatross, and he knew both females intimately. _

_After watching the sea for some time Skipper made his way back to his student and picked up his coffee which was now tepid. He took a sip looking out at the bow sighing contently after he'd swallowed black beverage he looked at the girl holding the ship on course. _

_She was a little pale in the face but her brown eyes were set on the sea ahead, determined to make it to port even without the assistance of the crew. The responsibility on her to keep the schooner together was enormous but she stayed firm rising to the challenge admirably. _

"_You're enjoying this," Skipper said his lips that were usually set in a hard line now curving. _

_Suellen looked at him dumbfound for a moment then looked forwards again. She gripped the handles tighter as she tried to think of an appropriate response quickly. Had that been a question or a general statement? Skipper didn't like for his crew to chat unnecessarily but leaving one of his questions unanswered would be worse. What to do? _

_Then after a bit more time being adamant Suellen spoke in a wavy voice. _

"_Oh yes sir," she said nodding timorously but didn't dare a glance. _

"_Good," was all he said and they didn't speak again. _

_Suellen wasn't sure how long she spent steering the ship through the storm. Not once did she look at her watch and nobody came to relieve her. It turned out that Mr Mcrea had ordered the teenagers below deck to recuperate on their bunks while Mr Du Pre prepared a simple soup for dinner in the galley. Suellen hadn't even noticed their departure. _

_The rain stopped, the wind died down, the seas stilled, the sky cleared and the sun visible for the first time in hours sank low in the sky. Suellen noted all of this but concentrated only on her duty to the ship to sail for smooth sea. Eventually when she and Skipper had been the only ones on deck for three hours Mrs Sheldon came above deck wrapped in a blue cardigan and summoned her husband. _

_With an order to stay on course Suellen was left alone. She let out a sigh of relief and breathed easier than she had in hours. Skipper was truly the master and commander around there. He was in charge and she respected him, she'd known she would the minute she saw him. It hadn't even been a question, she just instantly felt a sense of reverence as she clamoured aboard with her bags and walked up to him. Something about him told her he wasn't going to take any flack from her and she was now a part of the crew, that this ship would be her home for the next year with he the unquestioned patriarch. _

"_Cast anchor!" _

_Suellen heard chains rattling and sliding and turned her neck to see Shay releasing the anchor down by the stern. The sight surprised her partially because she hadn't heard him come on deck but mostly because to do something on board without Skipper's consent was a sure way to get spiflicated. _

"_All right Suellen that's enough." _

_The surprises just didn't stop coming! To hear Skipper call her by her first name made Suellen feel like she was Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole. In their two weeks at sea she hadn't heard him call anyone by their first name. So far she'd only been referred to as 'Wilson' or 'love' which wasn't affectionate, just Skipper's female equivalent for 'son.' _

_Reluctantly she released her grip on the wheel and watched it as it rolled back and forth slightly in each direction then came to a stop. The Albatross groaned around them as she bobbed gently in the water. They were moored for the night and it was only now Suellen realised how tired she was. Her hands were tingling red and her legs sore from standing still all day. She had an essay for Mcrea and maths work for Mrs Sheldon to get done in the next two days but her plans to write the essay draft and get Simon's mathematical assistance tonight had been abandoned now. _

"_Come on in love," Skipper said turning his back and descended the stairs with Suellen soon following. _

_In the galley Mr Du Pre was sitting in a fold-up chair reading a French magazine and nodded to her over the glossy cover when he saw her come down the stairs. Mrs Sheldon was typing away at her laptop over in the classroom area where a collection of wooden tables and chairs were positioned together for the daily school work. _

"_Rough day Suellen?" Alice Sheldon looked up from her screen and lifted her coffee cup to drink. _

"_It was ok," she said nonchalantly and wondered over to the Maths/Science teacher to see what was on screen. _

"_That wouldn't happen to be Friday's test would it Alice?" she asked cheekily and her eyes darted back and forth speed reading the screen. _

_The middle aged woman shut the top hastily and gave her student a disapproving look. When she knew that Suellen could see through her facade she showed her pretty smile and shooed her to the dining table where the loco literature lover Mr Mcrea sat. In one hand he held a battered and water damaged copy James Joyce's 'Ulysess' holding the paperback under the ceiling light with his small reading glasses perched on his sunburnt nose. _

_When Suellen had taken her seat opposite him Mcrea closed his book and took his glasses off with a swish of his wrist. _

"_Well my dear," Mcrea had an unusual voice that was something crossed between a Shakespearian actor and a pirate. "Today you performed with the intellect of Portia and the resilient character of Viola as you dealt with a problem as challenging as Hamlet's. I tip my hat to thee, fair maiden for the sea." _

_True to his word Mcrea took his ratty old cap off his head to reveal his fluffy hair underneath before replacing it. _

"_That's a slight over exaggeration Mr Mcrea," Sullen sighed with weariness and pulled his book over to her. She sat sideways on her chair with her feet perched on the next chair as she read the blurb and flicked through the pages. Then with flash over rage covering her face threw the book violently back at her teacher. _

"_You dog eared the pages!" she yelled bellicosely. "Some respect for the author you have! Barbarian! Readers like you deserve to have their fingernails ripped out with hit tongs and be cast into a pot of molten lava!" _

_From the galley they heard the cook chuckle behind his magazine. "Tre bien." _

_Unfazed by her outburst Mcrea lent back in his chair lifting the front legs off the floor. He patted the breast pocket of his shirt and pulled out his off duty Cuban Cigar. Placing it between his teeth he lit it with a flick of his lighter and sucked deeply on the thick tube of tobacco. _

_Watching the smoke rise and circle in a cloud around the ceiling light Suellen remembered when she was a little girl her mother had forced James to take her for the day while she went to entertain her in-laws with her son. _

_Holding her mitten covered hand James had walked her through the hustle and bustle of the hospital dodging gurneys and wheelchairs to take the lift down to the morgue. There James had sat her on the cold autopsy table and had shown her the lung from one of his past lung cancer patients. _

_Much to her horror Suellen watched as he pushed pus, tar and other unidentified gunk out of the blackened lung and had lectured her on the dangers of smoking. _

_Needless to say Suellen had never felt the craving for a cigarette. She also had a rising certainty that House wasn't the evil one of the duo. _

_Mcrea spluttered as an open palm impacted with the back of his skull forcing his face forward making him pull his cigar out of his mouth. Suellen lifted her chin from the hand she was resting it on to watch as Skipper forced the English teacher's head forward. He gripped the smoker's head in one hand and in the other a steaming bowl of soup with two pieces of crispy bread balancing on the rim. _

"_Since when do we smoke at the dining table when company is present Mr Mcrea?" he asked in the loud, lucid voice he used when speaking to his teenage crew. _

"_Sorry Sheldon I forgot," Mcrea yielded to the captain's command and stubbed out his expensive cigar in an abalone shell that served for his ashtray. _

_His lesson learnt Mcrea's head was released and Skipper pushed the bowl across the table to Suellen who snatched up the spoon and scooped the hot broth eagerly. Having her breakfast thrown overboard earlier that day and no lunch had made her especially voracious. _

_Skipper walked off then reappeared by her side a moment later placing a Coke bottle by her wrist. Suellen halted her feeding frenzy when it entered her line of vision and immediately handed it back to him before he walked away. _

"_I've had my share for the week," she said holding her fingers in front of her lips to stop any soup from spraying him. _

_Mr Du Pre stocked his galley with supplies every time they docked carefully selecting the best foods he could find from local suppliers and sometimes buying extra extravagances like sweets and soft drink. That meant that everyone on board never received anything more than their equal share so they'd last until the next landing. _

"_On me," Skipper said with a swoop of his wrist and pulled the seat next to Suellen out so he could sit. _

"_Thank you sir," she thanked him in precisely in the way he'd instructed her and her crewmates to on induction day. _

_He didn't respond, something he did often, and Suellen grabbed the bottleneck. The coke bottle was one of the retro editions made from glass and sealed with a metal cap. In vain Suellen tried to pry it off with her fingers locked under the rim her T-shirt wrapped around the bottle to provide a better grip and was about to ask for a bottle opener when Skipper snatched it away. _

_With one of his leathery hands he pulled the jagged lid off brutally then threw the twisted cap into Mcrea's abalone ashtray. _

"_Here love," he grunted and put the bottle back of the table for her. _

"_Thank you sir." _

_Again she received no reply. _

_The only noises as Suellen soaked up the last of her dinner with her bread were the ship's soughs and groans around them as the Albatross bobbed peacefully on the water, the constant clack of Alice typing on her keyboard and the gentle swish of pages turning. The dishes clanged as Suellen stacked her spoon and empty drink bottle in her bowl to carry them to the kitchen. _

_Pushing her chair back she stood up ready to go to the galley when she felt the dry touch of Skipper's palm on her elbow. Immediately she stopped and gave her captain her full attention. _

"_You were good today Suellen," he said in an equable voice again using her given name. "You did well getting the Albatross through the storm. You'll make a fine sailor yet, I expect to see some great things from you this year." _

_Suellen was astonished. Had Skipper just complimented her? The demanding, callous, draconian captain of the School Sailing Ship Albatross was openly administering praise? Surely not. _

_But the way Mcrea's eyes peeped over the top of his book and the absence of typing told her that she wasn't imagining and that everyone else was just as shocked. _

"_Thank you sir I'll do my best," Suellen breathed as her chest swelled with pride and smiled broadly. _

"_Yeah but don't you be thinking," Skipper said potently in a tone she was better aquatinted with, "that you're hot stuff now. Just because your crewmates crawled back into their bunks today doesn't mean you've got anything up on them. You're still green Wilson. You got it?" _

"_Absolutely sir," she said nodding her head feverently and hastily took the dishes to the sink to escape Skipper's steely gaze. _

_As she held her hand under the tap waiting for the water to warm Suellen couldn't quench the good feeling in her chest that was growing and spreading to the rest of her body. The smile on her face was hard to fight with the corners of her mouth pulling up involuntarily. _

_In their short time at sea Skipper had praised the group sparingly never singling out an individual to acclaim their achievement or voice his thoughts. To get his recognition and praise made Suellen feel proud of herself, pleased with her efforts and delighted to have joined the crew. To hear that from Skipper was like hearing it from your own father. _

"Yea I remember," Suellen's voice was thick and heavy sounding unnatural through the mask. "I had nothing up on the rest of you guys though, I just dealt with turbulence a bit better."

"Turbulence my arse," Dean's voice was strange too but that was because he was starting to crack from the cravings and had his the cigarette clamped between his teeth. "You rocked. That was a great moment."

"Not like now," Suellen said quietly as her energy to talk sapped away.

"Nah. This is a bloody shithouse moment," Dean grunted and rolled under the bed like a commando as he heard the door open.

* * *

It was cold in the lab that afternoon.

The heaters had blown a fuse that morning and the repairman who'd fixed in an hour ago gave strict instructions not to turn it up too high for the next few hours to prevent a fuse from overheating. The reflective metallic surfaces and glass equipment had always felt icy through his latex gloves but it was only now without his lab coat did Wilson realise the chilled atmosphere.

The three young doctors had no complaints as their dry cleaned long coats kept the cold out and House was snug in one of his jackets that rebelled against the hospital dress code. Dressed in only a T-shirt and jeans that gave little resistance to the temperature Wilson's skin rose in bumps lifting the hair on his arms higher than usual.

But Wilson was cold on the inside for another reason as he stood in front of an electron microscope that late December afternoon watching Foreman prepare the spleen sample for examination.

He wasn't technically meant to be searching for leukemia in the biopsy but House had wanted the best oncologist available and Wilson was determined to know the diagnosis before anyone else in his department. 'Ethics be hanged' he thought as he juggled his emotions while he watched Foreman remove the sample from its petri dish into another one and add the appropriate chemical to stain it.

He wanted to be the first to know if Suellen had cancer so he could cease worrying over her indeterminable condition and busy himself with seeking the best treatments available. But he found that he couldn't totally believe that he really wanted that.

He didn't want Suellen to have cancer, but he didn't want her to have something worse. If she was positive for Hairy Cell Leukemia then the ball would be in his court, House would defer the case to oncology and then he'd be in control. He hadn't had any control over the situation from the start.

Then again, if Hairy Cell was to blame then he wouldn't be administering treatment, he'd be delivering a death sentence. In instances such as this when the disease was so far advanced, there wasn't any chance of recovery and the chemotherapy treatments would destroy whatever strength the body had left.

But what was the alternative?

Suellen's was in a critical condition. Half an hour ago she'd had an anaemia induced heart attack on the table adding to the other multiple difficulties that were making her survival difficult. Failing liver, failing spleen, failing kidneys, fever, convulsions. All these symptoms and the only idea they had for a diagnosis condemned her.

"Sure you want to do this?" Foreman asked simply when holding the prepared sample in his hand. His face was kind and sympathetic and Wilson was glad for the thought.

He nodded with a straight face and Foreman placed the sample beneath the microscope lens, locking it in place with the metal clips.

With all eyes on him Wilson took a breath and looked into the eyepiece. He saw an ambiguous blob illuminated by the bright light beneath the microscope stage and he shifted the knobs for greater clarity.

After some further tweaking for a better view he got the biopsy sample into focus and analysed the spleen cells for any sign of Leukemia or any other cancer.

With total dedication he searched for irregular and serrated cell membranes, if the cell cytoplasm was stained light blue, irregular nuclei and any abnormal growth in the B cells that would give the cancer it's descriptive name.

A moment more and he sat up. He blinked to adjust his vision to the dimmer lighting and turned to face his expectant audience. He was about to tell them whether they could close the case and schedule the appropriate treatments or if they still had a mystery to crack.

"Definitely not cancer," he said in a wavering voice. "Biopsy's negative."

House's team shifted slightly on their feet and released noises of relief as well as ones of frustration. Their best bet was wrong and now they had even less time to discover the correct diagnosis. The risk they had taken with preforming the biopsy now jeopardised their chances of collecting any other substance samples because of Suellen's weakened condition.

"Strike," House said hitting his cane gently against the bench corner to call their attention his way. "We'll check her status and begin again. None of our tests have told us anything and every lead's been a blind alley. We'll start over in the office let's go."

Wilson reached to remove the sample from the microscope stage when Cameron's elegant fingers gently brushed them aside to perform the same task. He looked up to see her smiling charitably at him.

"Thanks," he said with a nod and swallowed hard.

Quickly and quietly he moved away from the microscope and out of the lab, walking with long strides until he was equal with House when he shortened his steps to par with his limping steps. With Foreman and Chase close behind them they halted by the deserted elevator and waited quietly for it to arrive.

The cold was no longer a problem for Wilson who now had a sweat glistening on his neck and forehead and his breathing had quickened leaving no breaks between the inhale and exhale. Noticing that his fingers were starting to twitch involuntarily he slipped them into his pockets as casually as he could.

The musical chime sounded as the elevator rattled to a halt and the doors opened. Wilson was the first in, taking a spot at the back to leave plenty of room for the others and House followed close behind. Chase had one foot over the threshold when the bottom of House's cane prodded him sharply in the chest and pushed him back out.

"Take the next one," House ordered then used the offending cane to hit the level number. The doors rolled closed with both of his male staff members giving him the 'You Bastard' look as Cameron appeared at the end of the hall.

House stayed close to the buttons while Wilson remained at the back both watching the numbers change over their heads. Nobody said anything.

Then just before the elevator reached the third floor House slapped the emergency stop button. The metal box shook on its cables as it jerked to a halt but House didn't turn around to look at his friend.

"You've got three minutes. Go," he said and kept his eyes fixed on the roof.

Right on command Wilson broke down.

Slamming both palms on the metallic wall behind him he twisted away from the door to hide his shame and pushed against the surface as his body shook with heavy sobs. His lower abdomen convulsed with every sob and from his voice box a sorrowful sound arose. His eyelids puffed red as salty tears came from his eyes and wet his cheeks. For the first time in years he allowed himself to cry.

He cried for Suellen dying painfully in the Intensive Care room. He cried for her being slipped anti depressant pills. He cried for her being ignored by him. He cried for her having to survive a horrible event and not being able to speak about it. He cried for her having lost her best friend. He cried because she'd been incumbent with her mother's duties growing up. He cried because her parents had neglected her when she'd needed them the most.

He cried for Martha because she wouldn't be forgiven for her mistake and because her daughter was dying. He cried for Alexander because with his condition nobody but his sister ever believed him. He cried for Dean because he'd travelled so far to see his friend die. He cried for Simon for having to die before his time. He cried for those parents on the dock whose children had not returned to them. And he cried for himself.

He cried because he loved Suellen but had never told her. He cried because they hardly knew each other. He cried because he'd never taken her seriously. He cried because he had rejected her all his life. He cried because he'd been too selfish to realise what he'd had. He cried because he'd been too proud to admit he'd been wrong. He cried because he'd made a foolish mistake and it was too late to fix it.

Both Wilson's vocal cords and head ached from the unfamiliar action of crying and his sight was blurry from the tears caught in the bottom of his lids. With a forceful sniff and hasty wipe of his hand he cleaned his face and steadied his breathing to an even tempo. Then with a shaky exhale he made his sore throat swallow to clear his airways and he resumed the stance he had when he'd gotten in the elevator.

"You good now?" House said still looking skyward with a complacent expression.

"Yeah, thanks," Wilson sniffed and ran his right fingers over his puffy face one more time before House pulled the red button and the elevator lurched upwards.

* * *

The sun had retired early that winter afternoon as House rubbed the list of incorrect diseases off of the whiteboard. It was only late afternoon but already dark outside with the last of the dull light coming through the heavy snow clouds fading in the distance. Inside the Diagnostics office the lights were also low and the atmosphere grey and dreary enough to rival the weather.

Foreman and Cameron sat flaccidly at the conference table their faces heavy and bodies' weary. Cameron's gorgeous hair had come free from its styling clips and ties in several places, loose stands hanging over her face and down her neck like tendrils. Foreman's shirt was crumpled and creased around the collar with long faint stripes appearing on the front. He'd hurried out of his scrubs after the surgery and had hastily thrown his coat over his clothes without care for appearance.

The doctors were tired and strained their physical capacity at its maximum and their well of ideas run dry. They'd hit wall after wall without coming within an inch of the truth. For all their tests and experiments the only thing they'd discovered was that they'd been wrong every step of the way. Now it was nearly too late.

"What have we got?" House asked, who showed no signs defeat only more passionate enthusiasm for solving the puzzle.

"Nothing," Foreman said bluntly as Cameron rubbed the back of her neck, an expression of euphoria passing over her face for a moment.

"Come on, what have we missed? There's got to be something new. What have we learned these past few hours?"

House wasn't prepared to let his fledglings have a moment's rest. He wouldn't allow for a patient to go undiagnosed. If there was nothing he could do for her once he had the right diagnosis then he'd accept that, but he owed it to Wilson to at least answer his question and provide him with some sense of closure.

Part of the reason he had pushed Wilson out of the elevator on Suellen's floor was because with his jumbled emotions and precarious state he would only foil any attempt he made of a possible diagnosis. House had other reasons than that too, but he didn't have time to consort with his sentimental side when there was work to be done.

"We've learnt nothing!" Foreman's frustration was clear in his voice. "She's worse! We've spent all this time fooling around with Lupus and Leukemia destroying what's left of her kidneys! We're back at the beginning again!"

"Whoa, whoa big fella," House said sardonically and jerked back for dramatic effect. "As I recall you were all for the Lupus and Leukemia tests and didn't have anything better."

Foreman sighed and averted his gaze so he wouldn't launch his full temper on his boss. Cameron looked at both men then back at the board. She didn't want to admit it out loud but she had to concede that the situation was hopeless. Suellen wouldn't live through tomorrow unless they had a breakthrough now.

"Doctor House?"

The three doctors all looked up to see a man in his early twenties smartly dressed in black pants and a white shirt with the mail bag Suellen had been carrying around with her the past few weeks. He looked at each of the doctors for a signal holding a handful of afternoon mail in his outstretched hand.

"Cameron will you…" House began with a gesture before turning to the board and she took the wad of letters from the temp orderly.

Nobody said anything in the minutes that followed. House rotated his cane in wide circles as his blue eyes scanned the symptoms list and Foreman lent forward in his seat pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried not to think of the patient's likely fate.

To distract herself from her troubled state of mind and to alleviate some of the strain on her brain Cameron sorted through House's mail performing her regular routine of dividing up the letters he'd read and the ones he'd ignore.

House heard her scoff then say, "Can you believe this got here today? It's dated two months ago!"

House turned around to see that Cameron was holding up a creased postcard from Mexico. There was a bright glossy picture on the front of geometric marvels rising out of orange sand in the hot dessert with Spanish writing promoting the natural marvels of the country's south. House took it gently from her fingers and curiously turned the card around to read the message scribbled on the back in Suellen's handwriting. After the first two sentences he stopped reading but his eyes remained on the postcard.

Then slowly he lowered it and looked at his two doctors with that distant gaze his stunning eyes glossed over with when he'd found the missing piece of the puzzle.

"What if we were wrong about it being environmental?" he said aloud absently.

"How could we be? Everyone else at home is healthy! You said so yourself," Foreman clenched his fingers into claws from agitation.

"You want us to test the other family members?" Cameron asked.

"No," House began pacing up and down the room with left hand moving over his lips as he translated the cascade of clues and information his brain was busy deciphering into words. "We assumed that she'd got sick here, in her regular environment, but she was overseas for six months before she got back. What if she caught something while she was there?"

"She's been home nearly a month now," Foreman pointed out but his mood was lifting. "She would have noticed something before now. We would have got more from the history."

"Not always," House shook his head with disagreement. "Sometimes diseases take time to strike. She could have been harbouring it well before it had any effect. Or something had to trigger it. Cameron you got her files from the Travel Health centre?"

There was a shuffling of paper and clipboards as Cameron scrambled for the right file amongst the various others scattered across the table. She found the fax print outs under a stack of manilla folders and read through them.

"She was clean when she went out," she told them as she speed read through the papers. "Had all the necessary shots done and had her tetanus and hepatitis ones updated. Healthy on departure."

Next to her Foreman had opened the medical files they'd requested from the Maritime Affairs Centre containing all reports and incidences relating to their patient that had occurred on board the Albatross.

"No complaints expect for a few cuts that needing cleaning," Foreman said with a shake of his head. "And a cold last July. Nothing serious."

"Does it say where they went?" House asked and there was more shuffling and sorting.

"Mexico, Belize, Cuba, Jamaica, Bahamas, Nassau, Venezuela, Dominican Republic-"

"Dominican Republic?" House repeated loudly cutting Cameron off before she'd fully listed all the places the schooner had sailed to. "The island of Hispaniola?"

"What has geography got to do with a sick teenager?" Foreman snapped his frustration returning.

"Because," House said moving forward and speaking to the neurologist as though he were an impatient child. "The island of Hispaniola is one of the places in the Caribbean Sea where the globe's oldest and deadliest parasitic disease to man is still rife. There's no immunity for travellers from Plasmodium vivax."

"Malaria?" Cameron said astonished.

House nodded and didn't give Foreman time to register his amazement before he spoke again. "It's killed more people worldwide than all the wars and plagues in history put together and kills more kids annually than any other infectious disease. Where's Chase?"

"With her," Foreman said still startled. "She needed another blood transfusion."

"Call him and tell him to take another blood sample then have him meet us in the lab. I assure you, if we put her blood under the microscope we'll see the little bastards destroying her red blood cells."

"It caused the anaemia," Cameron whispered to herself.

"Go!" barked House.

Ten minutes later Chase had met the rest of the team in the lab holding a syringe full of freshly drawn blood. House had gotten down there at such a rapid pace it would have put any other cripple to shame and he now sat on a stool before an electron microscope. One leg was resting against the stool leg while the damaged one was kept straight.

"Wilson wants a very good explanation," Chase said handing the red tube over to his boss sounding a little ruffled. "Practically tied to break my fingers so I couldn't take the sample."

"He's worried," Cameron defended.

"He's on the edge," Foreman argued.

"Then pull him back up," House said bringing all their attention to him with his eyes pressed against the eyepiece making the microscope look as if it was attached to his face. "There are more merozoites in this blood than grannies at a church fete."

He turned his head to the side so he could look at his idle staff who were all watching him with wide eyes.

"What's the matter with all of you? Never seen such a good looking doctor before?" he snapped cruelly but some of his relaxed smugness was returning. "I said she'd got Plasmodium vivax so quit standing around and start her on chloroquine!"


	10. Chapter 10

"Suellen you have malaria."

Cameron spoke softly and kindly as she broke the news to the patient but it was evident from her sedate posture that she was relieved with the diagnosis. Still, Suellen wasn't entirely sure how to take the news so her brown eyes shifted to each of the doctors for elaboration.

"What?" asked Dean who was completely out of the medical loop. All he'd known was that Suellen had been sick, then really sick and then dying.

"Malaria, Biduoterian fever, Blackwater fever, call it whatever you want. It's the world's worst parasitic disease and guess what? She's got it," House was annoyed at having to simplify the information for the minority without medical degrees.

"How'd she get it?" Dean asked not the least bit unsettled by House's aggression.

"A simple bite in Hispaniola from an Anopheles mosquito infected her with parasites called sporozoites. The sporozoites got into the bloodstream and migrated to the liver where they matured then were released as another form of parasite called merozoites. They infected the red blood cells and caused them to rupture which resulted in anaemia." House paused with his informational speech to redirect his attention to Suellen. "It also explains all of your other symptoms, the fever, headache, nausea, convulsions and the kidney and liver failure."

"But we were in Hispaniola months ago!" the teenage thug wasn't prepared to accept the doctor's word until he'd painted the whole picture.

House didn't give him the courtesy of addressing him and kept talking to Suellen who he knew would want an explaination more than anyone. Talking a few painful steps around her bed he went to stand by her shoulder and turned his back on Dean, who was leaning against the wall.

"The scary thing about malaria is that the human host can go as long as a year without experience a single symptom. Then once the infection begins to show the symptoms work in a re-occurring seventy-two hour shift. That's why your fever came and went before the convulsions got you in here."

"A regular case of malaria shouldn't have done this much damage."

Wilson found his voice again overcoming the immeasurable amount of relief that had presented the moment House arrived with his conclusion. Malaria was well documented and thoroughly studied in the medical world so with the solution provided he was able to deduce most of the information for himself.

"Right." House acknowledged his friend sitting on the opposite side of the patient and appreciated being asked a question worthy of an answer. "Which is why this isn't a regular case. The parasites had time to grow and do their work slowly enabling them to damage her liver."

Wilson nodded and with a brief tilt of his head to acknowledge something between them that only they knew House began to walk away. It was time to close the case and return to his regular rhythm of soap operas and clinic avoidance until the next mystery was delivered.

"We'll keep you on the chloroquine for a few days then you can go to Boston with a prescription ok?" he heard Cameron say as she dislocated the finished blood transfusion and unwound the tubing for the chloroquine drip.

"No."

House stopped and swivelled in his sneakers to see Suellen rocking from side to side as she tried to push herself into a sit with her weak arms. Her yellow face with black rings under her eyes spoke of her fatigue and pain but now there was a presence of confusion.

"You'll have to take a full course of medication to completely remove the infection from your system." Foreman reasoned while Wilson pushed on her shoulder to stop further movement.

"No. I mean, I shouldn't have malaria. On the Albatross we all took it, chloroquine, one pill twice a day. The doctor from the travel centre gave them to me before I left."

Suellen had managed to sit erect with some difficulty and her fingers overlapped Wilson's on her shoulder, as she didn't have the power necessary to push it away. She was happy to have a solid answer and simple treatment for her recovery but there was still an anxiety after so many tests that they could be wrong again and thought it safer to speak now for there might not be a chance later.

"And you were supposed to continue with the pills for up to four weeks after leaving the tropical area to prevent any chance of infection developing afterwards," House said devoid of surprise but smugly pleased with himself for being ahead of Suellen.

"Damn."

Physically expressing her humiliation Suellen let her body fall back on the pillows with a whispered 'puff' sound as her head landed. She squeezed her eyes shut momentarily blocking out the audience she was embarrassed before and twitched her fingers agitatedly on the hand Cameron was connecting to the IV.

"Don't worry Honey it's not your fault." Wilson tried to soothe her with a reassurance and rubbed her stomach for comfort but was unable to hide the bright smile of joy on his face. "And malaria is very treatable."

House, unable to leave without having the final word made a quick contrary comment to satisfy his brutal lust for corrections. "Well if we're not going to blame those pesky mosquitos then I guess she actually would be the guilty party."

The first few drips of medicine entered her bloodstream and it was as though it had an instantaneous curing effect. Suellen's eyes snapped open and her body bolted forward so fast she nearly head butted Wilson.

"You'll have to excuse me, after certain events taking travel drugs wasn't the first thing on my mind," she said with a nasty insincerity to copy House and offered a challenge through her eyes.

"It's understandable." Chase was quick to intervene as the two opponents stared each other down which Wilson ended with a fast push that sent her flat. "We're starting you on a chloroquine drip and we should see a vast improvement in a few days. You just relax and think about getting better ok?"

"Thank you," Suellen said gratefully on a large exhale and rested her exhausted body.

The anti-malarial treatment worked fast. Suellen slept through the remainder of the afternoon, four hours or so she guessed but wasn't sure because none of the hospital wards had clocks. Hospital time was separate from the rest of the world where biorhythms were constantly disrupted and it was almost as though time wasn't a fixed construct.

When she awoke she noticed that the light out the window had gone and the noise in the hall had significantly decreased. For the first time in days she didn't feel the prickling in her eyes commanding them to close and receive sleep and the foggy feeling of fever had cleared in her head. Rolling her head she dismissed some of the stiffness in her neck and rubbed her face without feeling her arm muscles ache.

"Hey how ya doing?"

Dean was first to notice her stir because he wasn't focusing on the television playing Wheel of Fortune as the bright colours on the wheel were giving him a slight headache each time a contestant spun it. There had been absolutely no interaction between the two since Suellen had fallen asleep so Wilson was surprised by the noise and immediately followed Dean's line of focus to his daughter.

"Good," Suellen said rubbing the back of her neck with some vitality returning to her speech sounding surprised by her honest answer. She wasn't ready for any great physical activities yet but already she had more mobility in her limbs without shooting pain through her system.

"Well you better bloody be," Dean returned his tone to smooth aggression. "You've caused enough problems so just shut up and get better. Ya got it?"

"Very supportive," Wilson grunted and gave the boy a short, false smile.

"Don't start you two," Suellen half groaned half warned. "I just got rid of a headache, I don't need another one."

The tightly tucked sheets came out and crumbled as Suellen sat up and shifted herself into a comfortable position. Wilson held a hand close to her back for caution and Dean, despite keeping the guise of unconcern was ready to help the moment something went wrong.

Suellen groaned as dormant parts of her body roused then began speaking to Dean wanting to know all that had happened while she'd slept. A second more of hesitancy passed before Wilson stood and retrieved the thermometer from the emergency cart.

"Is my Mum still here?" she asked as Dean fixed his James Dean hairstyle in the glass reflection.

"Nah, Pops told her to beat it couple a hours ago," he said using his standard dialect. "Your bro's still cruising around though. Want me to get him for ya?"

"Don't call me Pops!" Wilson shouted brandishing the thermometer at the insufferable boy then put it in Suellen's ear a little rougher than he meant to.

"Yeah thanks, oww!" Suellen pulled her head away and gave her father an angry glare.

Happy with her temperature Wilson moved on with his inspection round and after pulling the covers up pinched Suellen on her big toe to test for numbness.

"You feel that?" he asked happily.

"Well obviously," she answered very disgruntled.

"Good. And here?"

"Oww! Stop that!" Suellen barked and moved her feet out of his reach. "You're my father, you're not supposed to hurt me!"

"You hurt me," he said casually letting her statement roll off like water on a duck's back.

"You deserved that," Suellen said in a low tone and her eyes darkened. The good mood she'd woken up with was beginning to cloud over with Wilson's referral to recent events. "And I'm still mad you know!" she added louder and stabbed a finger into his side.

It hit a rib though so there was really more damage done to her than him but again Wilson didn't rise to the challenge. Arguing was not what he had in mind. He was too happy.

"Yeah I know," he replied simply and forced his fingers into her hands. "Squeeze my fingers for me? Good."

"Stop this," Suellen stopped Wilson from reading her chart and made her look at her. Her tone wasn't severe and her face said she wasn't about to become angry but the note of her voice made Wilson stop smiling.

"You're my Dad not my doctor," she said wearily, but it was her emotions that were exhausted not her recovering body. With a floppy wave she brought him away from the chart clipped on the end of the bed and back to her side. "Your job is to make me feel better, not make me better."

"I've had more practice at that one," he admitted referring to the latter with some embarrassment and sat back in the position he'd been in for most of the day. This time however instead of the chair, he took a place on the bed's edge.

Neither of them said anything for a time and the noise outside the Intensive Care Unit rose a few decibels. With the questions about her illness settled and her wellbeing checked Wilson couldn't think of what else to say. Their usual conversation complications had returned now the crisis was over and a cloud still remained over them that wouldn't break until they discussed all of the things they'd avoided.

Six months ago Wilson could have handled this using the expertise he'd exhibited during her departure at the bus station, with simple sidesteps and banal questions he truthfully wasn't craving answers to. He couldn't do that now, not now that so much had changed so quickly. Her time in hospital as House's latest puzzle had awoken things inside him he hadn't known before and his crumbling in the elevator conceded that he hadn't actually liked the way things had been. The way he'd been.

He'd told Martha that he would set things right and acknowledged now that hadn't just been a promise to soothe her hysterics, but an oath to himself. The malaria had pushed him to breaking point and now the chloroquine was bringing him back with new knowledge and insight. If he were to prevent a lapse into his old ways he would have to make the change now.

"We a, ah, we have a lot to sort out don't we?" Wilson started shakily but set things in motion.

"To say the least," Suellen remarked lifting and dropping her eyebrows at his understatement. She didn't speak without difficulty either knowing that they would soon come to treacherous topics.

"About what happened the other day," Wilson began in tight voice Suellen seldom heard. "Some of what you said was pretty heavy. I don't think you said it all just because you were upset either. You meant it didn't you?"

"A truth told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent," Suellen recited steadily but quietly and met his eyes. She wasn't sure if she'd resorted to poetry because of her own nervous irresolution, or because the stanza expressed herself best.

Wilson's expression lost some of its troublesome texture as he thought about that. His surprised blinking made his face gentler and his lips adjusted into a position closer to a smile than a taut line.

"Shakespeare?"

"No! Blake." Suellen corrected with playful disgust then went on to complete the verse. "It is right it should be so; Man was made for Joy and Woe. And when this we rightly know, through the world we rightly go."

Wilson's diplomas were in medicine not literature of the Industrial Revolution so he responded with a shake of the head and confused smile. Having got this often from many before now Suellen took a breath and explained the poet's verse by stripping it down to its the simplest form.

"You tell someone a harsh reality about themselves, especially a quality they dislike or deny then the weight of your words will be heavier than any fallacy," she said watching Wilson to confirm he followed. "The bit about 'Joy and Woe' basically means that there are some parts of our lives that are good and some bad, and before we can confidently go forward with life we have to accept that."

Suellen finished her brief analysis and waited for Wilson to respond. She could see that he'd paid close attention and was trying to take in all of what she said. Even Suellen, who was the top of her English and English Literature classes understood that this was not simple text and took time to understand.

"Being with Julie didn't make you happy," she daringly said next. Her stomach lurched from the jeopardy but she knew now was the time to stop dancing around and speak straight. "Even if you plan your life to be exactly how you want with a women and job you love, you'll never be able to avoid rough times and sadness. If you keep telling yourself you're happy when you're not and keep lying to yourself about who you are, you'll only end up empty. I don't want that to happen Dad. I know I'm not exactly your favourite person but I care about what happens to you. I care about how you feel. I don't want you to be sad just because you're stuck in a scared delirium. It's important to me that you're happy. You're important to me."

Wilson wasn't the only one surprised when Suellen finished her speech. To be truthful he'd suffered less shock that time she exploded with rage in the hall and beat him. His round eyes were staring at her with astonishment while her identical ones were looking at anything but him. This is how he could tell she was truthful about what she'd said.

Christmas night in the diner when she'd said she wanted him to smile again she had sunk into herself and looked away attempting nonchalance. It was clear now though, as it had been then, that her abashment was evidence of truth.

Wilson found himself smiling now, not sure if it was because of her expressed fondness for him or from his revitalised outlook and taking a deep breath started to say something.

"Suellen, I need to tell you something. I haven't always been fair to you but since you came back into my life things have changed. I've realised something. I-"

The door rattled as Dean rolled it open too roughly and he and Alexander tumbled into the room. Dean smelt of fresh nicotine smoke and his jacket was damp, laying bare his guilt of going outside to smoke before he'd hunted Alex down.

Alex jumped onto the bed making both his sister and her father bounce and Wilson quickly stood up to make more room. Alex began shooting questions unintentionally thwarting Wilson's plans to talk. In his hands he shuffled a pack of cards he'd been playing solitaire with in the lobby as he rambled. By giving an untrusting glace at Dean Wilson saw he was dedicating himself to looking disinterested.

Not wanting to be inactive again, over Alex's gushing Wilson asked loudly, "Are you hungry Honey?"

"Little peckish yeah," Alex said with a quick flick of his head then kept talking to Suellen. Suellen put her hand over Alex's face to silence him and pushed him away gently with a smile.

"You have your own Dad to chase after you," she said to her brother. Then to her father, "Not for hospital food."

"I'll get you something from the cafeteria," he said smiling at her comment. As a doctor he wouldn't recommend the hospital food for any of his patients.

On his way out he and Dean exchanged their customary glare and Alex was settling himself on the bed. As he went to the cafeteria and bought a chicken sandwich his fingers flickered like a pianist's inside his pockets. He was frustrated from being interrupted so close to saying something so important and was concerned that the courage he needed to say might dwindle before he could try again.

Still, despite his chagrin he couldn't deny the presence of a buzzing feeling in his chest. It was a good feeling, like when you've finished an especially arduous task or won a competition. The strain that had previously plagued him had slackened, and tension gone and the rewards available. Though he tried to smother it with nervous logic and pessimistic points the good feeling refused to dissolve so Wilson let it stay.

In the elevator on his return to the ICU holding the sandwich plate with one hand, Wilson noticed that his travelling companion was watching him intently. The close scrutiny the man in scrubs was putting him under was irritating and he turned around to end it.

"Can I help you?" he asked.

"Oh sorry," the man Wilson recognised as one of the resident surgeons said bashfully. "I wasn't sure it was you Doctor Wilson. You look very different today for some reason."

"It's the clothes," Wilson replied casually with a shrug.

The surgeon took the time to analyse his clothing taking in the runners rather than French shoes, jeans not trousers and the aged t-shirt that replaced Wilson's customary shirt and tie.

"Nah that's not it," he said as he walked out the open doors backwards. Then deciding not to think on it further used his arms to gesture defeat and gave a friendly smile. "Maybe the hair."

The heavy doors closed with a clatter and Wilson smiled with a small shake of his head. He was amused with the notion that removing his professional facade could be so dramatic. For a second he thought maybe that his inner changes were manifesting to alter his outer appearance but that only made him smile more. He acknowledged his new growth, but he wasn't going to romanticise it by believing he was a 'new man'.

Wilson exited the elevator on the next level and mumbled a polite hello to the nurse going in. Trying to look inconspicuous as it was past visiting hours, he carried the sandwich towards the sound of chatter in the ICU. As he continued to approach he noticed that the voices weren't light and chatting but loud and arguing. Upping his pace Wilson pushed the door open wider and saw Suellen in full fury shouting at Dean who was shouting back at the same calibre.

"Stop hiding!" Dean yelled hunched over the bed end with his fists clutching the board. "You're lying to yourself-you of all people! What are you going to do? Pretend it never happened?"

"Drop it Dean!" Suellen snapped back viciously. "Leave it alone I can deal with it myself!"

"Simon is dead Sue!" Dean flapped his arms with exasperation. "You think you can handle that by yourself?"

"Don't talk to me about Simon! He was my best friend! I can look after myself just fine!"

"Ohh? I find that hard to believe," Dean raised his dark eyebrows in challenge and Suellen bared her teeth about to say something cruel back when Wilson interrupted.

"Hey!" he barked catching the three teenagers' attention. The tone he used was alarmingly authoritative, startling even himself. With the room quiet he swivelled around to get Dean fully in his sights. "Do I have to ask you to leave?"

"No, no it's ok Dad. Really it's fine," Suellen said quickly sounding distracted. A moment more of holding his visual challenge with the boy he passionately disliked Wilson turned to see Suellen shaking her head slowly and rubbing her forehead gently with her fingers.

Meekly Alex lent over and touched her arm, leaning in close and murmured something only they could hear. Suellen nodded her head then put her arm down to hold her head high, looking around the room at everyone before moving to distract the clashing males.

"That my sandwich?"

"Yeah," Wilson snapped his attention back to his daughter and put the sandwich on the portable food table. He carefully pulled off the plastic wrap and watched as Suellen took the first few nibbles of the sandwich.

"Anyone want to play poker?" Alex asked when his sister was halfway through her first sandwich half. He wanted to make himself useful and thought it wise if he keep James and Dean from quarrelling.

"If you teach me to play," Suellen said feigning enthusiasm sharing the same thought as her brother.

Dean gave his yes grunt and Wilson approved of the idea and offered to shuffle. Much to the sibling's relief the only further arguments that ensued were card related. Later, when Suellen had left only a small fraction of sandwich on her plate she and Alex were giving more attention to Wilson and Dean bicker like card sharks than they were to the game.

By this time Alex had folded and Suellen's presence in the round had been disregarded by the conflicting males believing the rookie had a bad hand. Sitting on opposite sides of the bed Dean and Wilson had their eyes locked and tried to break each other's poker face.

"I have a winning deal, you're claiming an ace and four of a kind," Dean told Wilson rolling his shoulders like he was preparing for a brawl. "There's four aces in a deck, you claim to have one, I have five cards, Sue has five losing cards by the look on her and Al has folded. That leaves sixteen cards in the deck. I think there's still four aces in that stack of sixteen. What do you think of those odds old man?"

"I think you should put your money where your mouth is little boy," Wilson spoke metaphorically as they weren't betting. "And lay your cards on the table for all to see. Unless of course it'll damage your pride to show all of us your pathetic hand and you'd prefer to fold quietly."

Dean slammed his cards down on the table to reveal his promised impressive set and smiled nastily. Wilson looked worried for a second and Dean's smile widened. Then Wilson gave a triumphant little "heh" and put down his higher hand without the ace he'd bluffed about. Dean cursed and kicked the bed, making his chair scrape across the tiles.

"Experience comes with age kid," Wilson said conceitedly feeling extremely pleased. "Learn to save your bragging for your bluffs."

"Not quite," Alex said dully. "Show them Sue."

Suellen slowly put her cards on the table and immediately stopped Wilson's gloating. Four artistically drawn picture cards bearing aces and one marked with a King were placed side by side calling attention to the other cards that dimmed in the presence of the higher hand.

"Aww for crying out loud!" Dean snarled and slapped his knee furiously. "You won again Suellen!"

"No, no I didn't," Suellen said shaking her head and picked up the Ace of Spades. "This is a one. One point right?"

"No Honey," Wilson sighed through his entertained smile having quickly recovered from his loss. "Ace beats all."

"Oh."

So far the motley group had played five rounds of poker and Suellen had won all of them, accidentally. After having a very concise list of rules told to her by Alexander while Wilson dealt Suellen had held up her cards and mimicked all the moves of the other players staying in to the end because she wasn't sure whether her hand was any good.

It was Dean's turn to shuffle the cards, which he did with the flare of a casino worker, when the matron appeared at the door.

"Doctor Wilson," she spoke only to her colleague. "I'm afraid you'll have to leave, visiting hours are over."

"Can't you turn a blind eye for another hour?" he asked politely with a small smile.

"I've already turned it for three," the nurse sounded somewhat disgruntled for not having her philanthropic gestures acknowledged and left quickly.

Carelessly Dean handed the cards back to Alex without looking at him and got up. He tugged on his jacket lapels and swung his bag over his shoulder.

"I'll be back tomorrow," he said exclusively to his friend. "You stay cool ok?" He hesitated for a moment, then asked cautiously. "We cool?"

"Yeah we're cool," Suellen said nodding and they smacked their hands together before Dean walked across the room his heavy boots hitting the tiles hard. "Later Al. Catch ya Pops."

"Don't call me Pops!" Wilson's order again went disobeyed and now had the ring of a cracked record. His demand went unnoticed the first time and still had no power now.

Suellen sighed and shook her head smiling at Wilson with an expression the same as her brother's. Wilson could talk people into unwanted and dangerous experimental treatments, speak so empathically he received a thank you from a dying patient and have the reverence of the entire oncology department, but it would be a cold day in hell before Dean Prescot listened to him.

"Why are you friends with him?" he asked despairingly cutting off his glare once Dean had disappeared.

"Why are you friends with Greg?" she rebutted and Wilson's words died in his mouth.

"Checkmate," Alex snapped the rubber band he'd bound the deck with and slipped cards in his pocket. "I'll see you both in the morning."

"Ok cool," Suellen said nodding. She was sad to be losing her good company but at the same time glad for the opportunity to sleep again. Her body couldn't get enough rest it seemed.

"Can I give you a ride Alex?" Wilson offered courteously but privately wished the boy would decline. The King's house was in the opposite direction to House's apartment and Wilson was too exhausted for a long drive across town and back.

"Nah I'm cool," he said wrinkling his nose and Wilson realised how narrow a typical teenager's vocabulary was. 'Cool' apparently was their prominent word for any occasion. "I'll get my Dad to come and get me. He created me after all so his property is his responsibility. But thanks anyway," then after a second of deliberation, "James."

Wilson nodded and Alex was relieved. He hardly knew his sister's father and in their brief moments together every three or so years names had never needed to be used thanks to Alex's skilful avoidance. In his opinion their link entitled him the right to address Wilson by his first name, he had after all been married to his mother once. However with Wilson despising the term 'Pops' Alex wasn't sure if to risk his luck.

The brother said his goodbyes and left the parent and child alone. Wilson got out of the chair and pulled his jacket off the back, slipping his arms into the sleeves and wrapped the sides around him. It was late and freezing outside and he wanted to stay as warm as possible on he dash to the car.

"I'm going to go home," he explained calmly looking Suellen in the eyes. "Get some sleep and a shower then I'll be back in the morning."

She nodded and settled herself back onto the pillows. Her back was stiff from sitting upright in the rigid poker position but she still managed to smile while he spoke.

"Then," Wilson continued slowly holding himself steady, "we can talk about…" he fumbled for the right word.

"Stuff," Suellen supplied intuiting what he meant.

"Yeah," Wilson agreed thankful for her help. He nodded his head not knowing what else to say and put his hands in his jacket.

He was a great user of hand gestures Wilson, using his hands to excel conversation, throw his arguments, pitch ideas, covey frustration and accent his despair. However they also unveiled his reserved emotions like embarrassment and fears. Hiding his hands inside his pockets was a way of concealing how he felt.

He turned to go then surprising both of them took a step closer to the bed and lent down. Puzzled, Suellen sat still as he came closer and at the last second believed he was going to whisper something and turned her cheek. A second later she was corrected.

Wilson placed a small, quick kiss on her pale yellow cheek then quickly withdrew. His confidence gone he stood back and waited for the reaction. Suellen stared at him for a time her eyes wider than a deer's caught in truck headlights then severed their eye contact with a heavy blink.

"I'll be back tomorrow," Wilson said again and was ready to go when Suellen spoke.

"I must have been dying," she said on a rattly laugh and sheepish smile. "You've never done that before."

* * *

Wilson was quick to cross the car park and get out of the cold. The keys were in the car ignition and the alarm beeping telling him he'd left the door open when a shadow fell over him. Immediately suspecting a mugger Wilson's arm reaching for the door tensed and snapped his head up to see the assailant.

"Relax Pops."

Wilson did relax but his mind only changed from panic to aggression. He'd had quite enough of Dean Prescot and sitting out in the freezing cold he wasn't in the mood to play with the teen's silhouette.

The nearby lampshade illuminated the empty car park casting a bright light behind Dean cloaking his front in black. Against the light he was an undistinguishable dark figure with the burning spot of a cigarette at his mouth becoming brighter with every puff.

"Do you know what those things do to you?" Wilson asked disapprovingly, unable to fight his oncology impulses.

There was a click of the cigarette box opening in Dean's hand and the shape of his elbow adjusted. "Harm my foetus says here," and his lips made a small puck noise as they released nicotine smoke from his lungs.

Wilson's eyes lifted skyward and he pulled the expression usually reserved for House's antics. However, unlike with House, Wilson wasn't about to entertain this boy by listening to his rambles.

"I can't stay to chat," he said and pulled the door towards him. "It's late."

"Then I'll be quick," Dean's hand slammed against the door after flicking his cigarette away. "We need to talk about Suellen."

"Look Dean," this was the first time Wilson had used the boy's name in front of him but it was only to gain his full attention. "I not really sure what's between you and my daughter and I'm even less sure I like it. So whatever you have to say can wait."

There was another thud as Wilson tried to close the car door again but only hit the muscular teenager.

"You don't like me much do you Pops?" Dean's voice held amusement rather than hurt.

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"My parents don't like me much either. Don't worry about it."

Surrendering, Wilson let go of the door and relaxed in his seat. He gave Dean a bored look and didn't supply another critical comment, giving him the opportunity to speak.

"Sue hasn't told you anything about the Albatross has she?" Dean asked leaning down into the interior light with his arm supporting him on the roof.

"No and I'm not going to force her to. She clearly doesn't feel comfortable discussing it with me so I won't push her. Whoever she speaking it over with can continue with it. I'm not going to interfere and neither should you."

"There is no one."

Wilson frowned and looked up at Dean's face heavy with shadows on the divots and grooves of his face. His last statement had caught his full attention giving him the patience to hear the boy through.

"That's what I was trying to talk to her about before you came through a parked your arse," Dean said with his eyes widening on the word 'you.' "She's keeping it all on the inside."

"She's coping," Wilson said thinking of Suellen's recent attitude towards everything except him. "Just leave her alone."

"Are you blind?" Dean exclaimed with disbelief and pushed himself off of the car, stepping back into the darkness becoming a body of black once again. "She's hanging on by a thread."

Unable to reply Wilson sat dumbly in the driver's seat with a blank expression thinking so quickly he was alarmed when Dean made a throwing motion with his arm and something hit his middle, rebounding and landing on his lap.

Shying away from the glare rising off of the object Wilson picked it up and flipped the circular object over to inspect the other side. The brand logo and the word 're-writeable' identified it as a DVD and he called out to Dean's retreating figure.

"What is this?"

There was a scrape of the bitumen from Dean's boot spinning and grated as he turned around. In his mouth a new cigarette was burning.

"Robyn's last work," he said with what Wilson thought might have been grief but refused to believe it as genuine. "Silly cow didn't know it was still on when it happened. Camera was stuffed but the tape survived. Had her make me a copy before I came just in case this happened."

Dean began to walk away and left the baffled Wilson with another comment to add to his confusion.

"Want to know the kind of person your daughter is? Watch that!"

* * *

"Porn or new release?"

Wilson ignored what House said as he knelt before the television and carefully slipped the cheap DVD into the open player. His face and front of his night T-shirt were soaked blue by the light of the television set on the AV channel.

"New release porn?"

House was being irritatingly persistent and Wilson knew that he would have to watch the footage with him if he were ever going to stop the harassment. He had hoped when he'd rolled off the couch and retrieved the disk from his coat that he could watch in privacy but House's night watch had put an end to that.

It didn't surprise Wilson that his host was awake and hobbling around the apartment without his cane in the early hours of the morning. These past few weeks of his residency Wilson had become accustomed to House's after work routine.

House would watch all of his shows as he ate the dinner Wilson had cooked in front of the television until the tedious late night programs came on and he switched the TV off. House would then select on of his instruments-usually the piano-and play for at least another hour sipping a glass of scotch in between pieces before going to bed.

House would rarely sleep a full night though. At least once, sometimes up to three times a night he would emerge from his bedroom in his cotton top and pyjama bottoms and hobble into the kitchen to retrieve something from the fridge or to walk around in his uneven pace until the leg pain would numb.

On the bright side of having his sleep constantly disrupted, House had grown bored with his night-time pranks even since Wilson's devilish trick with his cane and nailfile.

Wilson watched the disk be pulled into the player and once the loading icon appeared on screen he took his place on the coach. House hobbled around and sat beside Wilson after pushing down the blanket Wilson had angrily thrown off minutes before when he let the nagging keeping him awake win and retrieve the DVD.

"So what have we got?" House rubbed his hands together excitedly like a meerkat. "Girl on guy? Girl on girl? Identical twins? Girl with wide range of battery operated devices?"

"It's not pornography!" Wilson cried hopelessly. "It's something to do with Suellen's trip."

House's eagerness evaporated and a shaking jumble of images came into frame as the camera operator adjusted and manipulated the camera to her satisfaction. The two viewers saw wooden decking then a glimpse of table legs before a steady shot of a tall man serving breakfast in a galley. There was a whisper of sound and Wilson had to press the volume button repeatedly before the fuzzy noise was audible.

"You're not taking that thing out again are you?"

Wilson grimaced recognising Dean's voice and grabbed the remote to fast forward until the shots were set at a low, but steady angle.

"I think I'll go to Tony's too," Simon Fitzgerald came into focus lugging two heavy coils of rope across the ship deck set against an unwelcoming grey sky. "Anything to escape my mother's cooking."

Wilson smiled at the joke that made the off screen girls laugh but the mirth faded quickly to be replaced with a heavier feeling of remorse. The lighthearted boy walking out of the camera's range was gone now, preserved only in mind and recordings. Although having only met him briefly, Wilson still felt a pang of sadness as he acknowledged that he was no longer alive.

"That Suellen's friend?" House asked, as the camera remained steady on the mast base. They could hear the girls' chatter clearly enough, one of them was Suellen but the other they didn't recognise and presumed it to be Robyn's whose lack of movement drained the footage of any artistic value and variety.

"Yeah," Wilson said and didn't want to think about the departed boy any more. This became possible when House lent over and snatched the remote from Wilson and skipped the next few seconds of footage.

"Come on I want to see some shipmate action!" he grumbled immaturely.

Wilson yanked the remote back from his clutches and after a few words of scorn rewound the DVD to roughly where he thought they'd been previously.

"So I take it your father's passed on Sue?" the DVD began playing from that point.

"No he was alive the last I heard," they heard Suellen said in a foreboding tone.

House slapped Wilson on the arm as a gesture of ridicule that only added to his embarrassment. Realising that whatever Suellen was about to say to her friend was going to be completely uncensored, a rising feeling of dread grew inside him and he tensed in his seat. He now had a suspicion that Dean had only given him the DVD to sadistically punish him or for his own sick amusement. With House now watching with the same keen interest he gave his soap operas, there was no way Wilson could back away from this and feign ignorance of its existence.

There was some more babble in the seconds that were stretched by Wilson's anxiety then Suellen said something that captivated all his attention. However it wasn't vehement cursing or profane insult like he'd expected.

"I'm not really a part of his life. And I don't think he likes me all that much."

"Ca-chang," House clapped his hands together as a wide smile grew on his face. He then rolled his head around to show Wilson his bright expression and observe his friend's reaction while the girl's conversation carried on. "This definitely beats General Hospital. None of the actors can deliver a confession with that kind of convincing honesty."

Wilson paid no attention to what was being said on screen now and House's comments meant little to him. Did Suellen really think that? That _he_ disliked _her_? She had to. She wouldn't have said it otherwise and there was no reason for her to lie under the filmed circumstances.

But whether her words were true wasn't Wilson's major worry. The confession told him something about Suellen that he hadn't deducted from her character. He knew now that she cared about him, she'd said so herself only hours ago, but now she was revealing that she'd interpreted his attitude as detestation, that the negative feelings were harboured by him. That he resented her.

"How could she think that?" Wilson said aloud with a look of total disbelief.

"How could she not?" House replied in a very unsavoury voice. "How else would she take the estrangement, dismissals and general disregard for her existence? As a chauvinistic expression of love? Snap out of it!"

A loud boom did exactly that, making both of them jump and look back at the television startled, surviving on the air trapped in their lungs as their moment of fright shocked them stiff.

Realising the noise was not authentic, Wilson hastily altered the volume and watched the screen intently in search of an explanation. The tumultuous movements of the camera accentuated the pandemonium occurring on the ship as a deep masculine voice yelled orders and Robyn was pushed back and forth by the rolling vessel beneath her. Suellen came into view and momentarily after a shout commanded Robyn to pull her out of the rigging and she then crashed heavily before the camera tumbled.

The thunder boomed and the rain blurred the lens. Over the noise of nature it was near impossible to make out what was being said between the people. Captivated by the unexplained action Wilson's breathing accelerated as he became concerned for Suellen's safety.

He knew that logically she was in no danger as what he was seeing was the past, but seeing her in distress made him feel anxious and aware of the effect that these events had had on her, he knew there was no happy ending.

Suellen called out to the skipper who said something they couldn't hear then the camera cut out. The television fuzzed with black and white specks jumping around angrily on the screen and both men moved in surprise, shifting in their seats searching for an answer.

"What?" House snapped abrasively. "That's it? Cutting out at the best part?"

Wilson was just formulating an answer when the harsh sound of static ceased and a new darker image came on screen. The red dot flashing in the top corner told them that the machine had flicked onto an automatic function and was recording without the operator's consent. A high scream immediately caught their attention and send chills through them.

"Suellen! Come on get me out of here man! There's something blocking the door! I can't-I can't get out! Help me Suellen!"

At first neither could distinguish where the camera and Robyn were. The sight and sound of water was everywhere, flooding in from all sides and rising from the bottom to a dangerous hight rapidly. There were blobs dotted over the picture from droplets caught on the lens. Light was sparse and didn't have the natural radiance of the sun, rather a low sickly glow of an artificial light.

"They're inside the ship," House murmured and the picture gained more clarity in Wilson's mind.

The camera and holder were making their way down some sort of corridor, presumably somewhere below deck approaching something at the far end. Robyn wasn't progressing fast and the camera wobbled endlessly as she was knocked from wall to wall by the ship quickly sinking in the outside storm.

"Suellen we gotta go!" they heard Robyn yell to the figure struggling with a closed door in the distance. "She's gonna roll!"

By her words the audience were able to tell two things, that the person forcing open a door was Suellen and that her life was in eminent danger. The urgency in Robyn's voice was smothered in panic and her frantic screams described how close they were to drowning with the ship.

Gradually the camera came closer to the end of the hall where Suellen had her fingers wrapped around the door scrunching her face with strain as she summoned all her physical energy into prying the door free. After pulling to no avail she slouched over for half a second then tried again, this time with her foot on the wall to add extra force.

"Suellen get me out!" a face pushed against the glass House and Wilson couldn't distinguish with all the water and disruption screamed out from behind the door frantically. "Please don't leave me here!"

Around the handle swung a long chain that had presumably been used to hold the door open in more peaceful times.

Sullen released her hold and dropped to the floor, plunging her hands under the rising water in search of something. Unseen her hands found what she sought and her crouching stance tightened as she tried to lift it to the surface. Her neck snapped back and she wailed to the roof as she used everything she had to remove the obstacle blocking the door.

"We have to go now!" Robyn was coming up the passageway, the urgency of her voice reaching its peak. There was no question about their actions now. There was only one thing they could do. "We can't stay! She's sinking!"

The drenched girl released her hold on the unidentified impediment and wobbled back onto her feet. She gave a loud grunt of exhaustion then turned away from Robyn's calls for escape and returned to the door, this time trying to push it free from the side.

"Suellen please! Sue! Suellen!" the trapped boy wailed from inside his prison beating his fists against the door.

"Push against the door!" Suellen bellowed. She was pushing with everything she had but her order lacked some strength by her voice wavering. She sounded ready to cry as she struggled with an unbeatable force. "Grant! You've got to push against the door from the inside! Grant!"

Grant.

Wilson knew that name. Suellen had screamed it out in the hospital the day the Russian liner brought her home. Wilson had seen that name scratched out in pencil on the wet pages of the folio she'd devoutly guarded. She had screamed the name the same way she was screaming it now. With despair and grief as she apologised.

It was then he knew the boy's fate.

"Oh no," he whispered and covered his mouth with one hand.

The boy screamed again and the vision was thrown underwater. A murky image filled the screen and the gurgling and swirling of the drowning current stifled the sound. There were more wild movements then the sound returned but the visual aspect was worse now then it had been moments before.

"Suellen! Leave him!" Robyn wasn't hiding her thoughts any more exposing the grim reality of their crisis.

"No!" came a roar that barely sounded like Wilson's daughter. "I won't leave him!"

"Suellen."

Grant spoke again but not in the high screeching he'd used to beg for her help, instead a defeated gurgle. Suellen pulled herself upright in the waist high water and held onto the door again watching her friend through the round window. Through the slim opening Grant forced his arm through and pushed a familiar leather folio into Suellen's shoulder.

She snatched it hastily and shamelessly shoved it into the back of her jeans locking it firmly against her back by tugging her belt tighter. She then looked back at her friend through the circle and held his gaze.

"You've got to push against the door," she croaked very close to a sob and saw Grant raise his hand to the glass.

Amongst the chaos and uproar that surrounded the pair there was an odd moment of peace that wasn't disturbed by the rising water and the winds outside lashing the boat to shreds. Suellen raised her hand to the glass matching the shape of Grant's and locked onto his gaze before he disappeared.

"No!" Suellen shattered the tranquil moment of empathy with her scream of grief. "Grant no!"

Grant had given up, choosing to sink to his death inside the doomed ship rather than to condemn them all in a worthless attempt to free him. She screamed again, this time something without words and unwound a length of chain from the handle.

She sank her feet that she could no longer see through the dark water into the wooden floor and pulled on the chain with every scrap of energy she could muster.

"Suellen!"

Robyn's scream was followed by the ship's groan that outmatched any noise they could have made as the Albatross was flung up by the squall and sent the two girls into the air. Suellen's hands slipped along the rusting chain and her body crashed into Robyn's as they were thrown back in the hall end.

The television returned to static and there was nothing more.

* * *

Ok that was chapter ten to finish a few mysteries and start a couple more. Sorry it's taken so long to get done but these past few weeks have been complete mayhem. I wrote a fair bit though so it should satisfy you for now. Read and review! 


	11. Chapter 11

The potent liquid shot down House's throat hitting his stomach with power as he finished his third scotch for the late evening, or technically the early morning. He made a small smack of satisfaction with his lips and squeezed his eyes shut to steady the swirling kitchen before his eyes.

In the kitchen lit only by the faint glow of the overhead stove light House and Wilson sat on opposite ends of the kitchen table with a near empty bottle of scotch between them. House sat straight and confidently enjoying their little inebriating cahoots with his right foot perched on a spare chair to alleviate the strain on his leg. Wilson meanwhile was the image of devastation slumped over the table holding his head in his hands ignoring the watery glass of scotch in front of him.

The ice in House's glass clinked together as he slammed it down on the table and looked across at his inactive drinking buddy.

"Come on Wilson," he said challengingly to the broken figure. "You're two drinks down and I'm wiping the floor with you. Loser has to wash the glasses."

House's comments failed to provoke Wilson into responding so he tried again. This time speaking in his familiar cantankerous tone.

"Get over it," he said gruffly and poured himself a considerably large fourth glass. "You didn't know the kid. None of it has any relevance to you. What you saw means nothing."

Wilson lifted his face to glare at the empathically immune cripple leaving tracks in his hair where his fingers had been.

"You have to know someone to feel pathos?" he asked flatly. "Were you watching the same video I was? Did we not see the same thing?"

"I saw Suellen slice her hands open on a chain," House said in a matter of fact tone lifting his glass to his lips. "You might want to talk to a plastic surgeon about those scars but I doubt there can be much done. Palms are a tricky area to work on, lots of strain."

Wilson scrunched his face up and waved his arms to overemphasise his frustration and complete lack of belief in what House was saying. For over an hour now he'd been attempting to digest the horrors of the Albatross' final moments and House's flippant attitude was like a clown on a battlefield.

Absurd and desecrating.

"That boy died!" Wilson bellowed out releasing all of the repressed wrath that had been building in his chest. "That doesn't bother you?"

House tilted his head to the side then with a complacent expression lifted his finger off of his cold glass and pointed it at Wilson.

"He drowned which I won't deny is very sad," he began, "but people die Wilson, it's a fact of life. We of all people should know that. I know you know that because if you didn't accept it you wouldn't be the brilliant oncologist that you are. But the death of that boy, Grant, is not our problem and it's not what's really bothering you. Beguiling yourself with his death to spare yourself the difficulty of sorting out your own mess only cheapens his end. "

"What are you getting at?" Wilson asked suspiciously taking care not to openly recognise House's compliment. House didn't enjoy being thanked so Wilson just took it gratefully and proceeded straight to the attack.

"You're thinking about what a bad Daddy you've been," House said and finished his glass in one motion of the arm.

"I am not!" Wilson spluttered and straightened in his chair. "Why do say that? My only thoughts are for Grant's family and Suellen. I can't believe she's been sitting on this for so long she must be…"

"There you go," House cut in with glee. "You're punishing yourself for not helping Suellen more. For not being the kind of parent she can discuss this with." Then after pulling a comical face, "Gee between you and Martha Suellen could create her own branch of psychology."

"You're wrong," Wilson tapped his index finger on the tabletop impatiently. "My concern is for Suellen. There is no way that she can be taking this as well as she claims to be. Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome can be very dangerous if it is not properly treated. If she keeps going like this she'll wind up in real trouble!"

"And you the only reason you know that is because some shabby punk kid knows your daughter better than you do!" House said loudly. His tone wasn't dangerous or angry just thunderous in octave to cement his point.

Wilson held strong eye contact with House for a few seconds but broke it off when he couldn't support his rebuttal against House's argument. House was right.

Once more he'd been shown inside Suellen's word, giving him a chance to understand her but yet again he'd turned the focus around on himself. Instead of thinking about how Suellen felt, he'd been thinking of how her feelings would make him feel. How her actions would affect his, if all of Suellen's difficulties were ones he'd created, and whether they'd be difficult for him to resolve.

"Ok," Wilson said with a flick of his fingers after the fallout of House's words had settled and reverted to sarcasm to support himself. "I'm a lousy Dad, Suellen should hate me, Dean's a wisdom guru and I don't know didly about schooners. Is that all?"

"I believe the expression was 'Deadbeat Dad'," House responded with one of his regular rudely irrelevant remarks. "Just quoting here."

Wilson made a small untruthful smile to convey his antipathy and looked around the kitchen for any sign of assistance or useful distraction. Finding nothing he returned to his present worries and felt the yoke of onus on his shoulders again. With old weights lifted new ones had been heaped on him to hold him down. Only this time he didn't know if he'd be able to cast them off easily. To do so would involve both him and Suellen together with a lot of courage on his part.

"It's not all bad though."

That got Wilson's attention. House being optimistic was so uncommon it was almost unbelievable. What was next, voluntary clinic duty?

"Admittedly the camera angles were worse than a Tarantino," House said slowly, weaving his story along gradually to keep Wilson's interest. "But it did manage to capture her better side."

"Enough with the games," Wilson groaned listlessly.

"She knew she was about to die, but she stayed anyway. It didn't matter what her friend said to her, she was willing to give up her own life to save the boy's. I can't help wondering that if I were in that situation would I do the same thing? Probably not. Would you Wilson?"

"Probably not."

* * *

"Slow down this isn't a race!" Martha snapped at her daughter. "Take it easy or you'll hurt yourself."

"I'm fine Mum," Suellen said tightly and concentrated hard on staying perpendicular.

The recovering Suellen had recently left the slower block where she'd independently washed the sweaty shine from her skin with hypoallergenic soap and had removed the dirt build-up out of her pores. Her blonde hair was still damp despite Martha's rigorous efforts to towel dry it that had pushed Suellen's spine in several different directions before she'd plead for mercy.

Now with Martha standing behind set to catch her in case her legs gave out, Suellen steady made her way back to her room in her loose jeans and hospital gown. Above her head the bag of chloroquine swung back and forth as she rolled the IV stand in front using the metal pole for support like a Wizard's staff.

Doctor Cameron was checking a report at the nurse's station when she saw the two blondes cautiously shuffling towards the ICU. Closing the folder with a quick flick she passed it to the attending nurse and gave her thanks before she went to meet her patient.

"Hey good morning," she said with a benevolent smile as she entered the room right as Suellen was lowering herself onto the bed.

Cameron pulled her stethoscope out from under her coat collar then placed the round hearing pieces in her ears and approached Suellen who pulled her shirt down after pushing aside the mother's hand who'd tried to do that for her.

"Morning," Suellen said and returned Cameron's smile. Her smile wasn't nearly as luminous or as stunning and her voice was still weary from the overburdensome infection and taxing tests but there was a clear note of comfort and verve that had been missing in recent times.

"I see you're feeling better already," Cameron noted the wet hair and change of apparel. "Not bad considering we only started the chloroquine yesterday. If you keep this up we might be able to move you out of the ICU this afternoon."

"I can have more visitors then can't I?" Suellen peeked through the hair on her face to catch eye contact with Cameron as she listened to lungs from the back.

"Sure," she said looping her stethoscope back around her neck and stood up to check the medication dosage.

"How much longer until she can be released?" Martha asked and Cameron was disappointed to hear that her tone had changed back to its original demanding ring. "We go to Boston in a little over three weeks and I have to know if she'll be right to fly."

Suellen stopped the sigh she was about to breathe so the two women wouldn't inquire about her thoughts and instead let the air exit through a heavy exhale. Her face did jerk slightly with some dismay but the expression was too fleeting for either of the women to catch.

"We'll have to monitor her condition for a few more days then she'll need to take prescribed medicine with plenty of rest in the coming weeks," Cameron told Martha in her best understanding voice and kept the medical details to a minimum. "But there shouldn't be a problem."

"And will the rest of my children need to take anything to prevent the malaria from spreading to them?"

"Mum!" Suellen indignantly cried with an expression to match. She didn't particularly appreciate being sketched out as some class of contagious leper or compared to a virulent pandemic.

"Malaria's not passed between humans, she's not contagious."

Cameron had opened her mouth, but the answer was not in her voice. Turning the three of them saw Wilson at door in fresh casual clothes and his hair neatly combed but his physical appearance was only a slight improvement on yesterday's worn and weary man. His eyes were red and saggy from sleep deprivation and his posture effete but it was his fingers that gave his feelings away.

Suellen spied his hand fidgeting from his sport's jacket sleeve and became slightly concerned when she saw his fingers flexing and curling repeatedly. Lately Suellen had become aware of her father's persistent habit as well as what the different movements could mean.

For a second she thought perhaps there was some news about her health, that he'd run another test and that everything was about to get worse. That would have made sense as Cameron wouldn't have told her anything frightening and given her some false hope to blindside her but then she remembered that House would have come himself to force the truth on her had that been the case.

Next she worried that something had happened to Wilson like Julie destroying his possessions or a death in his family but Martha cut in before she could ask.

"You look terrible James," she told him without sympathy. "Maybe you should go home for a while. See Suellen in the afternoon or maybe tomorrow both of us don't need to be here and, why do you stink of booze?"

Martha had changed the end of her speech the instant Wilson came alongside her and caught a whiff of the scent wafting off his breath.

"Does it really matter?" Wilson asked with a pained expression and a lot of exasperation.

Cameron took this as a sign to leave and quickly signed her name and time on the chart before hastily exiting the room. Her enchanting eyes met Suellen's for a moment as she passed the bed and the tiny nod she saw told her she had made the right decision. She wanted to stay and support Suellen out of morality but Suellen seemed to believe that this was an issue for only her and her parents so Cameron left.

"Yes it does matter!" Martha whined in that grating voice of hers. "Your daughter is recovering from near death and you go on a bender with the miserable jerk! What sort of behaviour is that?"

"Perhaps precautionary," Wilson grunted. "To soothe the pain just in case you were here."

Martha's jaw dropped and her lungs expanded as she took in the air needed for screaming an insult at her ex-husband. Suellen cringed and put a hand to her face with misery. This position of hung head and holding her face with torso hunched forward was routine posture used every time her parents had to share the same space.

"Drop the attitude James!" Martha snarled to Wilson who wasn't even looking at her.

Instead he was gazing out the window and wondering what it was that had ever attracted him to Martha. It sure as hell wasn't her voice, or her personality so it was probably her figure. In the late eighties she'd had a stunning body she hadn't been afraid to show off. Wilson knew now that no relationship based only on physical attraction could ever last, but he'd needed two more affairs to confirm it.

"Could you two refrain from making malarky just this once?" Suellen pleaded. She ran her hands down on her face and spread her fingers so now her eyelids were pulled down and her cheeks taut. A true face of despair.

It didn't do much good though.

"Suellen don't interrupt," her mother took no notice of her obviously grotesque expression. "You're father and I are having an important conversation. Please be civilised."

Suellen threw her hands off her face letting the skin snap back into place so she could give Martha a look of disbelief that would support her coming statement of deprecation.

"Yeah, civilised, right. I'll call Stockholm to make sure you two have seats for the next Noble Prize ceremony," she said sarcastically. "I think they have conversations on your level of civilisation in a barn around back."

"Hey shut up!" Wilson snapped instantly, too taken aback from the spiking insult to say something more appropriate for his teenage daughter. His father skills were sub-par but he was pretty sure that 'shut up' wasn't the proper way to discourage sassy comments.

Instead of being wounded like he'd anticipated, she tipped her head to the side much like the way a rooster does when it's discovered another rooster in its yard and prepares an assassination strategy.

"Back up boozehound. The best thing you two ever did for me was get divorced, and being a divorced couple with a mutual child that means I only have to take crap from one parent at a time. So either you take it in turns and one of you disappears right now to go badmouth the other to whoever will listen or I'll buzz in a nurse to have you both thrown out. Take your pick."

Her commandment final Suellen crossed her arms and watched her parents with a satisfied smile. With her body improving her regular attitude was returning and that meant James and Martha would have to fight to get their way. Fight and lose.

"You can't do that," Martha said in the voice Suellen had grown to dislike in her early years and met Suellen's eyes with a lofty expression.

"Actually she can. Patients have the right to refuse visitors." Wilson proved Martha wrong but for once he didn't receive any gratification. He knew that Suellen had conquered yet another conversation and that he must comply with her orders.

"And on that point," Suellen said on a bouncy note, "you are dismissed Mother."

Martha spluttered when she heard that. "Why me? What's he done lately to earn your favouritism?" She jerked her thumb at Wilson and he felt his self worth drop a little lower.

As he stood there hung over and scruffy with Martha hissing beside him Wilson thought it fortunate that House was trapped in the clinic. If he'd been present Wilson would have been bombarded with insults from a triangle of abuse. When he'd left last night he'd been positive that things would be on the improve and the maelstrom of emotion that had swept him up these past few weeks would clear. But now he wasn't so sure.

In some ways he felt that he'd overcome the obstructions hindering his efforts and was making progress. The frequency of open hostility had drastically lessened in his time with Suellen and her temperament towards him was far more hospitable and affectionate. He too found more pleasure in her company and now possessed a sense of entirety previously absent in his mind.

Still, after watching the film and his conference with Dean Wilson couldn't help but think that there was still a wall dividing him from Suellen. The horror she'd witnessed wasn't something he believed she could handle alone and was certain if he couldn't make Suellen confess then console her she could never truly feel comfortable around him.

"I got a kiss," Suellen said proudly lifting her head and tapped the cheek that had received the gift.

Wilson stopped brooding for a moment and smiled. He couldn't help himself, he knew that it wasn't proper formality for the forthcoming conversation but something about the way Suellen was behaving tickled his humour. With all the harsh words and cruel truths she'd forced upon him and tortured him into confessing, she had also given him back his smile. He missed feeling that way.

"Big deal," Martha drawled ineloquently and rolled her blue eyes. "He kisses every female who'll get near him. Like a dog in heat."

"I resent that remark!" Wilson snapped back with conviction and started to think of excuses quickly to cover his past actions.

"Have you ever kissed Doctor Cameron?" Suellen asked curiously.

"Probably," Martha grunted.

"Now who's being rude?" he jeered. "And as usual Martha you are wrong. I have only had one date with Doctor Cuddy and I have no interest in Doctor Cameron."

"Did you kiss Doctor Cuddy on the date?" Suellen asked keenly.

"No kissing," Wilson said firmly and waved his arms wide in the air before his chest and opened his palms to symbolise his innocence.

"Did Doctor Cameron get a date with you?"

"Nope. But she did get one with House though," Wilson told her and was glad for the opportunity to direct the flames of interrogation away from himself.

"Really?" Suellen asked incredulously and scrunched her face up in disgust. "Did she have 'Old Man' listed on her Girl Guide scavenger hunt list or something?"

An intangible force surged upwards from his ribs, inflated his lungs, rattled up his throat and escaped through his mouth before he could think. Wilson had to grasp his knees as he doubled over with laughter to stop himself from crashing to the floor. He knew he shouldn't have found that funny and should have reprimanded Suellen for defaming his co-workers but in a building where the staff feared House and adored Cameron it was rare to hear someone say something so crudely shrewd.

It was Martha's sigh that slowed his laughs and diverted his focus. Standing straight he saw Martha shake the blonde cascade of her hair with disapproval and turned to leave.

"I blame you for this James," she said in a dramatically defeated voice then stepped out into the corridor and walked towards the sitting area.

Wilson didn't concur with her words but didn't find them worthy enough to protest. Now that Suellen had brightened his mood for a few moments he was less agitated and rather than shout Martha down, dismissed her attack with a small wave of his hand.

His laughter finished with a sigh then Wilson rubbed his forehead in an attempt to alleviate the sudden shooting pain in his head. Suellen recognised the cause of the symptoms and poured a cup of water from her meal table. She held the cup out to Wilson who took it with thanks and settled himself into the bedside chair he'd become very familiar with in the recent days.

Suellen watched him pull a peculiar face of discomfort as he sat down and released a small groan. Sleeping on a couch was bad for the spine and the flighty state Wilson had been in every night since House had pulled his prank with the warm water made him wake up four or five times a night fearing the dastard doctor was hovering over him.

Suellen put her hand on his closest knee and pushed her weight onto it so she could pull herself into his grasp. Wilson was too quizzical to complain and watched closely to discover what she was doing. She tilted her head back making her nose nudge his chin accidentally for a second then took a deep breath.

"You went drinking with Greg," Suellen declared and landed back on the bed after a hard push on his knee.

"How can you tell?" he asked still wearing the baffled face and holding the water at a distance.

"You smell like cheap scotch," she concluded and moved the books around on her table to retrieve her newspaper. "Any half decent human being would provide their guest with quality alcohol to maintain their social image. And since Greg is neither decent, social, particularly concerned with his image and a colossal cheapskate, it sort of narrowed down the list of suspects."

"And since when did you become a connoisseur of alcohol?" Wilson asked suspiciously with a drilling gaze.

"Ah, no, no," Suellen waved her finger and smiled sneakily. "I may be drugged up but I'm not about to spill all my secret stories. You're going to have to try a little harder if you want details."

"Why do I see blackmail as being the only way?" Wilson sighed over his cup and took a sip of the tepid water.

"Because you have no imagination for dastardly schemes?" Suellen said and folded her newspaper over in a quick swish of her hands and held the page out for him to see. "I'm open to suggestions."

Wilson cleared his hazy vision with a tight squeeze of his eyelids then focused his eyes on the word puzzle Suellen had scrawled over with pen. His eyes were so desperately in want of rest they felt hot inside in his head as if they'd had power running through them for too long.

"Flood," he said after moment to jumble the letters a word.

"No you need to used the R," Suellen said shaking her head. "The word must have the Target Letter and you can't make plurals either. That's cheating."

"Right, right," Wilson pushed her instructions aside and took the newspaper from her hand. He folded it up into quarters then put it on the food table. Suellen watched him move her paper with silent bafflement then turned to him with a blank face once he'd laid it to rest.

"I just need to talk to you for a second sweetheart," he said sounding hurried and fidgeted in his seat.

"Ok sure," Suellen said with a shrug ready to listen but without a keen interest.

Wilson took a breath, stopped his fidgeting and tried to put his thoughts in coherent order. He knew what it was he had to say but couldn't find a way to approach the subject with the care necessary. It wasn't like breaking bad news to a patient because after so long their reactions and repercussions had become almost predictable. Talking to Suellen was difficult to begin with and he was without prior experience in this situation.

"It's about your friend Grant," Wilson started and immediately Suellen stiffened. Her dull expression had shifted to alarm and her laxed aura dispersed assuring Wilson that this talk would be a trial.

"What about him?" Suellen asked coolly but the flicker that flashed past her eyes told Wilson to be wary. One wrong step and she could snap.

"I saw the," then Wilson stopped. Suellen didn't know about the video nor that Dean had given it to him. In a second he remembered the fight the two had last night and how Dean had sought him out in secret. If Suellen thought the two of them were conspiring behind her back then it would be impossible to gain her trust.

"I was recently told about how he died," he started again keeping a close watch on her reaction.

Suellen turned away and looked down at her hand resting on the white sheets covering her legs. She twisted it towards her a tiny way and looked at the red lines that glowed furiously against her white palm. Using her opposite hand she gently touched the tip of the jagged line and followed it town to her wrist.

"Oh," she said quietly without looking up. "What did they say?"

"That you tried to help," Wilson said gently. He didn't realise it but that was the best thing he could have said. To describe the boy's demise would have had a disastrous effect.

Wilson lent forward a fraction to try and re-establish eye contact but Suellen had her gaze set. When she spoke next Wilson didn't need to see her face to tell how she felt.

"Didn't do any good," she said on a wobbly reply. "I couldn't help him."

"No, no, no sweetheart," Wilson's large hand cupped her shoulder as he moved her around to look at him. "You did everything you could. You tried your best."

"Yeah and he drowned," Suellen's voice quivered before she gulped down a large lump in her throat.

"You gave him peace before he did Suellen." Wilson knew he was close to loosing her so used her name to anchor his argument. Except this conversation was cracking from near crying rather than the tantrum he'd anticipated.

Suellen pulled her shoulder out of his hold and rocked her body side to side like an agitated herd animal before it stampedes. She covered her face with her hands and shook it in tandem with her waving body. Then after a moment more she cleared her face of the mucus and tears that had threatened to spill out a second ago.

"No," she said firmly after pulling her hands off of her face sharply. "I couldn't help him and I couldn't help Simon. It was my fault. I couldn't save them."

Wilson examined her profile and twitched his fingers rapidly as he felt a cold icicle stab him in the stomach. Suellen was had defensive posture now, using it to guard a terrible secret that had haunted her all this time and would continue to plague her thoughts and dreams if Wilson didn't wheedle it out of her now.

"Suellen," Wilson spoke as if to a statue. "What happened to Simon?"

"Simon?" the side of he mouth twitched upwards but made no other movement.

"What happened to him Honey?" Wilson could feel he was close. He had his finger on the button that would release the pressure in the dam and return the waters to their regular level. All the answers to the questions that had robbed his sleep were only an inch away.

"Suellen Wilson?"

The unexpected entrance of a third voice made both of them jump, bringing some animation back to Suellen's inert body. Silently Wilson cursed the interruption and vented his frustration by forming his fingers into fists. Both generations of Wilsons looked towards the door and saw a man standing there with a bristly haircut and a cap tucked smartly under his arm.

Wilson thought he was a naval officer or a marine by the bars of gold and patches sewn on his uniform but Suellen with her better naval knowledge knew he was an officer of the Maritime Court and immediately dreaded the worst.

"Can I help you?" Wilson said formally and got to his feet. He didn't introduce himself thinking it might be necessary to present himself as a doctor rather than a parent if he needed to dismiss the man.

"Lieutenant Morgan of Maritime Affairs," the man said and thrust his hand out at Wilson with a sharp movement of his rigid arm. "I'm here to interview the patient Suellen Wilson about the incident regarding the school sailing ship Albatross. Her verbal testimony is to be used as material evidence for the inquiry trial if necessary."

"What trial?"

When Suellen spoke Wilson remembered that he and the Lieutenant weren't the only ones in the room. Rolling his head over his shoulder Wilson saw her IV bag wobble above her head as she erected herself into posture proper for the intruder. For the first time that morning Wilson was aware of the medical equipment and medicines surrounding Suellen working to cure her. He'd been so hasty to talk about the tape he'd almost forgotten how sick she was.

Walking through the hospital was nothing exceptional from his daily process and when he'd spoken to Suellen minutes before it hadn't been any different from how he would have spoken in her own bedroom.

"I must object," Wilson stepped into the officer's path and spoke with medical authority. "She's not currently in any condition to discuss such matters. Perhaps you could take care of this after her discharge from the hospital's care?"

Lieutenant Morgan, standing a foot taller than the oncologist had his chest puffed out like a rooster ready to crow forcing him to look down at Wilson over his robust torso.

"I received orders to question Miss Wilson after the Judge assigned to the upcoming hearing was informed of her present illness. This interview will pardon Miss Wilson from appearing in court next week with her crewmates and Captain Sheldon. Approval was given by the hospital's administrator beforehand I assure you," he told Wilson lucidly and stiffly without a hint of worry. If Wilson was going to argue then he had all the answers needed to thwart his arguments.

Wilson's lips tightened and he made a mental note to have a very loud conversation with Cuddy later. For a spilt second he wished for House's nerve so he could remove this irritating blockage without feeling the intimidation Morgan radiated.

"I must protest," he continued, "my daughter is very sick and I cannot allow you to bother her while she is in such an important stage of her recovery."

"It's ok Dad," Suellen piped up behind him.

Like the bell at the end of a boxing round her voice made both men break off their rough engagement temporarily and they turned to Suellen who was watching them from her bed.

She'd smoothed out the bed sheets covering her legs and pelvic area folding the top over neatly like a seal. The low allergenic cotton gown she wore as a top that had been hanging off her bony frame moments ago had been adjusted to pass for a proper garment and her visage said she was collected and unemotional.

"Let Lieutenant Morgan ask his questions," she said moving her head in the said man's direction. "The sooner he has his trial material the sooner the Maritime Court will know that Skipper isn't at fault."

Her sentences were so well composed and fluent Wilson almost missed the spiking challenge contained within them. He looked quickly between the officer and girl and saw that both hid behind an unemotional guise as they held eye contact. Morgan stood with the placidness of a man who'd done this many times before while Suellen's jaw bulged inside her mouth, keeping her teeth clenched tight to master the onslaught of words she wanted to say.

Wilson offered Morgan a seat before sitting after Morgan politely refused. He crossed his arms and held his biceps in his fingers to stop any digit movements that would give away his stirring distress.

"To begin Miss Wilson," Morgan began his interrogation in a professional tone from the end of the bed where he stood in soldier's stance. With the distance between he and the witness their conversation could have passed for a cross-examination at an occupied witness box. "You were on deck the morning of December Twelfth when the Albatross was in distress?"

"Yes I was in Skipper's team and we had the day watch. I would stay on deck until six PM and we'd rotate with Mcrea's team. They had the night watch."

"Very well," Morgan continued with a chime of irritation at her elaborate answer. "I believe it was you who acted when the foresail split?"

"Yes I was going to lower it before Robyn pulled me out of the rigging."

"Why did she do that Miss Wilson?"

"Skipper ordered her to."

"Captain Sheldon didn't see it in his interest to lower a broken sail? A potential hazard that could have lead to navigational difficulties?"

"Skipper saw it in our best interest not to get any of us electrocuted," Suellen said in a matter of fact tone with a hint of pride. For a second her face loosened long enough to show pleasure in severing Morgan's lead.

When Wilson saw that he knew Suellen wasn't blindly believing Sheldon's innocence out of endearment developed in six months at sea. The fierce loyalty present in her answers and beliefs had developed from respect and admiration. She would defend his name and fight for his honour because she revered him and agreed with his command. He had earned her steadfast trust and now she would prove to Morgan he was worthy to captain any ship bound for open water.

"Electrocuted?" Morgan had heard Suellen perfectly but repeated her last word to form a new argumentative angle. "Had he guided the Albatross into dangerous waters? Knowingly sailed into unfavourable conditions?"

"No," Suellen choked on the objection and lost her composure for a moment. Wilson shifted in his seat but Suellen was looking Morgan in the eye before he could ask if she was ok. "It was a white squall. That's why we went over. Because we hit a white squall."

Her icy exterior had cracked when she said the words 'white squall' shattering her protection and exposing her genuine emotions. Suellen was scared.

Wilson felt a shiver run up his spine and the now familiar sense of dread that had been dominating his thoughts the past few days return to his abdomen with intensity. If Suellen was frightened she would become defensive and crash into the encroaching final stage of Post Traumatic Stress.

"The Bureau of Meteorology says that white squalls are an impossibility. A trick of the imagination in sailors who make poor decisions leading to crisis. What do you say to that Miss Wilson?" Morgan allowed his neck to move a fraction so he could tilt his head in a condescending manner.

Suellen made a noise that Wilson mistook for a trapped sob but corrected as a mirthless laugh when he saw the thin smile her lips had formed.

"Do you find something about this amusing Miss Wilson?" Morgan asked with a raised eyebrow and readied himself to find her next statement contemptible.

Slowly Suellen raised her head to look the Lieutenant in the face with sharp eyes and a hard face. The last icicles of her cool exterior had melted now with Morgan's last remark fanning the fire underneath a boiler.

"I don't think a single second of this is funny _sir_," she pushed out through the tiny gap between her gritted teeth and endowed distain on the title to mark her disrespect. "What happened to our ship was not imagined. It was not a dream. It was a nightmare."

The conversation that had begun balancing precariously on a set of scales had now tipped to the dark side and Wilson could sense danger nearby. It was clear now that this kind of heated state was exactly what Morgan had intended to lure Suellen into from the start. Her answers would rush out fortuitously and unprepared, stripping away any gloss she may have added to conceal anything incriminating.

"So it would seem," Morgan continued as if he hadn't noticed Suellen's change. "According to Captain Sheldon he called for everyone to abandon ship after Albatross' starboard side was lifted from the water and the loss of the central mast. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Suellen said immediately. "It was all we could do. The squall hit too suddenly and we couldn't right her to stay afloat."

"So you don't believe that the schooner could have been saved? You had complete faith in Captain Sheldon's orders?"

"Look Lieutenant," Suellen said boldly changing her tone from grudging politeness to indignity. "I'm really tired of answering the same questions here. Everything Skipper did was right and I will deny any allegation that contradicts that. If you're looking for someone to discredit or incriminate the crew of the Albatross then go and find someone else."

Wilson moved back in his seat wide eyed and took the final breath before the impending fallout. There was no way a man of Morgan's statute and authority would take the brunt of a teenager's insults. To Wilson's surprise though, there was not explosion of temper or any start to conflict.

"Miss Wilson," Morgan spoke coolly but implanted caution in her name. "That was not what I asked. Please answer the question."

"I didn't doubt him for a second," Suellen hissed.

"Was proper evacuation protocol kept by you Miss Wilson?" Morgan slipped easily from one subject to the next with such stealthy ease Suellen was shocked by his question. "Did you release the lifeboats from the deck then abandon ship like you'd been ordered too? As you had been trained to do prior?"

Suellen's bottom lip folded over her bottom teeth and bit down on the puffy skin anxiously with her incisors. She was still looking directly at Morgan but now rather than watching him with a reserved predatory gaze she had the stare of a catatonic person watching events replay in her mind. Her breathing had increased in both speed and noise which all made Wilson worry.

First his brown eyes flicked over to the monitors for any indication of danger then after finding none he moved from the sidelines and trespassed into the area that Suellen and Morgan had dominated from the beginning of his interrogation.

Wilson let go of his arms and stretched his left hand out to hold Suellen's. His warm fingers closed around her sweaty palm for a brief second before she pulled it away hastily and shook her head.

"Don't!" she said on a fast breath snapping out of her daze. She watched Wilson's shocked face for a second then turned back to Morgan standing stoically at the bed's end.

"No," her voice was an octave higher now and had lost its sedate sound. "I didn't."

"Why is that Miss Wilson?" Morgan asked simply but wanted an answer. "Weren't you suppose to help with the lifeboats like Simon Fitzgerald was ordered to? Wasn't that one of your responsibilities as a student and crewmember? Why did you defy regulation? Did you see an error in the Captain's judgement? Why did you not perform your duty as expected?"

"Dean fell!" Suellen threw out. She had to force her words around the lump in her throat and her expression was desperate, her speech becoming more and more turbulent with every new word.

"The mast broke off and he fell into the water," she puffed out on air that didn't reach her lungs. "He was trapped under the sail and I went after him. I pulled him out."

"That was not what you ordered to do. He was not your responsibility."

"He would have drowned!"

The mystery of Dean Prescot was solved in those four words. The unlikely friendship between them had been forged in gold by the debt he owed her. Suellen had saved him from certain death by placing her own life in jeopardy consequently tying the two of them together forever with the strongest bond possible.

Wilson was bewildered beyond all extremes struck still and dumb by the revelation that he nearly missed the next part of Morgan's questioning.

"Which is what happened to Simon Fitzgerald," he said. "According to reports you were the last person to see him alive Miss Wilson. What were the circumstances of his death exactly?"

Suellen folded forwards as if struck by a sudden abdomen pain pulling Wilson out of his seat and into her personal zone. With one of his large hands placed on her back for reassurance he lent in to see her face.

Suellen had her teeth clamped together tightly with her lips pursed white from pressure. In her cheeks a red colour was rising and from the corners of her shut eyes the first two large salty tears of many escaped. They rolled down her smooth face unstopped and fell onto the bed sheets below darkening the colours in the material.

"You need to leave," Wilson slipped his arms around Suellen's shaking shoulders and looked up at the unfazed Lieutenant. It was not a request or an objectionable statement. It was an order that he would comply with.

"Very well," Morgan obeyed simply and clicked his heels together. "I have all I need. Thank you for time Doctor Wilson, Miss Wilson."

In exactly even steps Morgan walked out of the room swinging one arm in tandem with the pace of his feet. Wilson watched him go for a moment then dedicated his focus on Suellen who refused to listen to his coaxing and uncurl.

"Sweetheart it's ok," he said soothingly and tried to push her hands away from her face. "It's over now. We can talk about this."

Suellen shook her head and forced negative whimpering noises through her closed mouth. Wilson heard the door slide open and saw an orderly leaning through the threshold.

"Doctor Wilson you need to call Doctor Brown on extension two. It's about one of your patients," he said deliberately not noticing the family scene occurring that could be used as gossip between the nursing staff.

"Can it wait?" Wilson asked rudely with obvious frustration.

"He said it was important."

Wilson gave an unwilling nod and promised Suellen he'd be back almost instantly. He kissed her hair and hurried out of the room and down the hall towards the nurse's station. On the way he saw Martha in the waiting room sitting beside her handbag reading a hard covered novel. Her blue eyes spotted him when they glanced over the book momentarily as she turned the page over.

"I need you in there," he said sliding to halt. "I'll be right back."

"Fine," Martha said on a sigh but thankfully didn't try to stir up some commotion. Just placed her bookmark at the stopping point and reached for her bag.

Wilson avoided a gurney heading his way and pulled the closest phone out of its cradle once he was at the nurse's station. After rapidly punching in the numbers he had memorised he listened to the phone ring before Doctor Brown answered on the other end. Wilson urged him to hold the chatter and after hearing Brown's succinct patient information advised a change in pain medication then hung up.

He turned around ready to go but unexpectedly jerked backwards when he saw Martha standing right in front of him.

"What's the matter?"

"Have they moved her out of Intensive Care?" Martha asked with a small frown developing in the corners of her face.

"No why?" Wilson asked confused.

"She's not there."

It took Wilson a second before he believed that. Only two minutes ago he'd been holding Suellen's crumbling body on the bed having sent Morgan out the door. Now Martha said she'd vanished and it was too fast and unexpected for him to comprehend.

"James!" Martha screeched when she received no answer. Wilson could only blink at his name so she took the next step and smacked his arm. "Snap out of it!"

That strategy worked perfectly.

Wilson twisted back around to the staff behind the counter who'd been surreptitiously watching since Martha had said the word 'missing'. Leaning over he caught the attention of the closest nurse and spoke in a rush.

"I need security to search the building. We have an Intensive Care patient missing. Have them look everywhere, she's still very sick."

The nurse nodded and Wilson turned back to Martha to give his next instructions.

"I'll look around here, you go outside. She might be trying to go home."

Martha nodded with agreement and hastily stepped around Wilson moving in the direction of the front entrance. Wilson had walked two paces when he remembered something else.

"Martha!" he called out getting her attention and many others. "Be careful if you find her. She's very upset."

Martha nodded again to answer as she was too far away for a confidential answer. Wilson then ran down the hall back to Suellen's room and saw for himself that the room was empty. The sheets on the bed hung over the end and the Intro Venus cord hung from its stand dripping chloroquine on the tiles.

Wilson moved off and looked frantically in every room he passed. At the opposite end of the hall he saw a security guard walking at a brisk pace speaking into his hand radio. Knowing that his search of the floor had been unsuccessful too Wilson made a sharp left and entered the stairwell.

"Sue!" he called out and waited for his unanswered echo to stop before he grabbed the nearby hand railing and propelled himself up the stairs.

His runners dashed up two flights of stairs before he exited on his office level with a hunch Suellen may have gone to see House. House wasn't someone she would find comfort in but he was someone familiar. Also her current mindset was to flee so she might not logically head for the best place.

Puffing and panting Wilson fell out of the stairwell taking a moment to catch his breath and admit how unfit he'd let himself get recently. His current dietary habits had been appalling and he'd been too preoccupied lately with his personal issues to give exercise any consideration.

Wilson wiped the sweat from his brow with a movement of his hand and looked up to see House leaning against the wall casually playing with his yoyo.

"Lost something?" he asked in a laxed voice keeping his eye on the spinning toy.

"Suellen's gone. I thought she might have come here. I need you to help me find her," Wilson puffed his segregated sentences and staggered over to him.

"No problems," House caught the yoyo and looked up to see Wilson's flushed face. "I sent my emissaries out to join the search party. You'll be happy to know they're all quite concerned. I would have gone scouring high and low myself but you know, my leg hurts."

"Thanks," Wilson grunted sarcastically and moved to go but stopped when he felt the cane across his shins.

Looking up Wilson saw that House was now completely serious having lost his facetious face. As this was a rare marvel Wilson didn't attempt to leave again and blessed House with his patience to hear his explanation.

"You're doing the right thing by being worried, it shows you care," House's voice was sombre. "But maybe you should go to your office before you run off."

Wilson showed a quizzical frown and scanned House's face to find the meaning of his suggestion. House didn't explain but jerked his head towards Wilson's office. The two men held a mutual gaze for a small time before Wilson walked cautiously to his office grabbing the handle then stopping to look at House again. When he nodded Wilson proceeded, closing the door behind him quietly.

He heard her before he saw her.

The painful sobs and cries came loud and freely so Wilson found her quickly. The noise guided him to his to the desk where he rolled his leather chair away before crouching down to see Suellen hidden under the desk crying onto her knees.

"Hey Honey," he said gently and put his hand on her shoulder slowly.

Suellen pulled out of his grip so quickly Wilson snapped his hand back in fear. When she looked at him Wilson saw Suellen's eyes had turned scarlet and her face was covered in tears. She sniffed repeatedly in a vain attempt to control the flowing mucus from her noise and bared her teeth threateningly.

"Keep the fuck away from me!" she snarled viciously and retreated further under the desk.

"Sue."

"Keep the fuck away!"

Wilson wasn't insulted by her profanities knowing that things said in any emotional state were seldom meant but seeing her in such distress upset him to the point where he would end her anguish any way possible.

"It's ok Honey," he said understandingly and closed his hand around her arm. "Just come on out."

"No!" Suellen shouted pulling her arm away but found she couldn't break his grip. She gave an agitated yell but when she was unable to free herself by struggling she surrendered and cried harder, her arm going limp in his hand.

Wilson averted his eyes for a moment and for the first time noticed the blood drying on the back of Suellen's hand where she'd brutally ripped the IV out tearing the skin.

"Come on Honey tell me what's wrong," Wilson tried soothingly and crawled closer so his head and shoulders were shadowed by the darkness under the desk. He'd never feel the same sitting there again.

"No go away!" Suellen wailed and shook her head. With her father so close she knew there wasn't any way she could escape.

Wilson didn't move for a little while after she said that. He sat on the floor with his head ducked under the table watching Suellen cry and let the time go by without unmarked. But as ineffective and unconfident as he felt having his daughter reject his consolations he knew that this was this it.

He'd never imagined that he would say it in this situation but he knew that if he couldn't muster the courage to tell her now, trying at any other time would only make the words seem half-hearted and insincere.

"I'm not going anywhere Suellen."

Wilson's voice was neither strong nor dictatorial but his words gained her attention and hooked into Suellen. She stopped her next sob by smacking her lips closed and swallowed hard. She couldn't bring herself to look up at his face but she listened for what was to follow.

"I'm tired of running away," Wilson started. He was quiet and extremely nervous but found that for something so hard to say, the words came to his mouth almost naturally.

"I've spent my life avoiding you, avoiding the problems we've had and I haven't been fair to you. I'm sorry for that, I truly am."

Wilson stopped and waited. Suellen's reaction would decide whether he could keep talking or would abandon the whole effort. There would be no point in trying to speak with candour to someone who had already rejected your words and Wilson would have to deal with his feelings alone for the rest of his life.

Ever so slowly, her sobs now silenced, Suellen lifted her head to look at Wilson. Tears still fell as fast as rain from her eyes and her quivering lips threatened to release more cries but she held herself together to listen to her father, giving him permission to continue.

"I can't make up for what I've done and there's no excuse for it," Wilson went on solemnly. "I'm not going to ask that you forgive me Sue because I don't deserve it. But I promise you, I'm going to do better. I won't run away any more."

With jittering anxiety Wilson waited for Suellen's response, for her rejection or her acceptance, he didn't know which to expect. But Suellen was so astounded by what her father had just told her she wouldn't have known how to react, even if she'd been capable of response.

All she did was stare at him with her watery brown eyes framed by a stupefied face. The lump in her throat bobbed down and up again as she swallowed then opened her mouth to speak.

Wilson focused all his attention on the coming response but just as the start of a sound was said Suellen's lips wobbled and her voice changed to a sob. She squeezed her eyes closed blocking the fresh tears and fell forwards into Wilson's wide chest.

Wilson welcomed her warmly wrapping his thick arms around her fragile frame and spread his hands wide to hold as much of her as possible as she cried.

This was the last stage of Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome. Suellen would have to share the memories that caused her pain to gain control over them. For her to recover she must master the past before she could move into the future.

"What's the matter Suellen?" Wilson asked as rocked her back and forth like a small child. "Tell me."

Suellen's forehead rubbed against the soft cotton of Wilson's T-shirt as she shook her head. Her arms wrapped around her father clinging to him like a lifeline she felt weak and afraid. This was too much, too many question being asked, too many demands being made. It was too heavy a burden to overthrow herself.

Suellen stopped crying when she felt Wilson's hands leave her back. Their sudden absence came as a great surprise after depending on them so much. A moment later the familiar grip returned, this time on her shoulders where they pushed her back so she was forced to look up at Wilson's compassionate expression.

"Trust me and tell me."

It wasn't until much later that they realised how much Wilson had asked of her in those five words. There was nothing in their history that would rationalise receiving Suellen's trust. He'd let her down countless times in her early life and had continued to do so until this point in time. Even with the founding of a new relationship from the past month Wilson was not exonerated. The divide between them still existed.

When he brought her to the clinic wet and bleeding she'd attacked him. She'd yelled at him about his wife without any regard for his feelings. Then to make her thoughts absolutely clear she'd thrashed him in the hallway. There wasn't a precedent to trust him.

"It's too much," she croaked and rubbed her eyes with the bottom of her hand.

"We're going to get through this together," Wilson stooped his neck so she couldn't avoid his eyes. "If you bottle this up it'll only get worse. Do you really want to remember Simon for something this terrible for the rest of your life? Because that's what's going to happen Sue."

"I don't, I don't want," Suellen shook her head and sniffed a few times in quick succession.

"Then you have to get this out of you Honey or you'll never heal," her father told her with honesty and with three fast nods of her head victory was Wilson's.

He didn't rush her to start giving her the distance and relaxed ambience she needed to calm herself. Their time was unlimited and everything had to be left to Suellen, she had to do this for herself.

Taking deep breaths to cut the continuing sobs off Suellen cleaned her face with her petite hands that were now clammy from being clenched into tight balls of aggression and mopping up salty tears.

With a final sniff she lowered her hands and tucked her legs underneath her and lent against Wilson's chest for support her ear over his heart. She felt his large hand stroking her hair rhythmically and focused her brown eyes on the floor beside her knees. It would be too hard to tell this story to Wilson's face, his expressions would unsettle her and shake the story off track.

"The Albatross was sinking," Suellen began holding her voice steady. "Skipper gave the order for Simon to release the boats and everyone to abandon ship. I was meant to help but I thought I could see something moving under the sail that had fallen in the water."

"Dean," Wilson supplied specific detail at the appropriate pause and Suellen's head shifted up and down on this t-shirt nodding. His interruption wasn't meant to disrupt her, only to stop her from getting sidetracked or taking the chance to change the subject.

Suellen had chosen to nod rather than answer for fear of her voice cracking as she thought of Dean futilely pushing the cover of his water prison and kicking his feet against the rip trying to pull him down. By the time Suellen had seen his distant silhouette through the dark salt water he'd already started sinking.

"I know I was suppose to get the lifeboats first but I couldn't just leave him under there," she spoke in fast patches of detail hoping to race the pounding in her throat that wanted her to sob rather than speak.

"But I couldn't leave him down there, I mean I didn't know then it was Dean, or somebody else, I couldn't have know but I thought, maybe there was, I wasn't really sure but I," Suellen rambled in a hurry.

"You thought that someone might be in trouble so you dived in to see instead of helping Simon," Wilson said for her calmly.

Wilson stretched his neck in a funny downwards half circle way to see that her face was still dry. Relived to see there were no new tears he took one of the arms he had wrapped around her away and relocated his comforting hand on her back where he rubbed the behind of her heart and lungs soothingly.

"Mmm," Suellen made a noise of agreement then sniffed before continuing, steading her breathing to the pace of Wilson's rubbing hand.

"I pulled him to the surface," she went on. "I couldn't see much it was so dark. The water was wild I could hardly keep us afloat, Dean was breathing but he couldn't move much he was so exhausted. I needed air so badly I didn't hear them calling at first."

Suellen wiggled uncomfortably on the floor and he loosened his hold so she could move without feeling confined. He wanted Suellen to fell safe beside him, not imprisoned or she'd close up and never speak to him of her ordeal.

"One of the lifeboats was in the water close by," she elaborated when she was comfortable again. "I swam over to them."

Suellen squeezed her eyes closed for a second and spoke next with such despondency that Wilson knew she was recalling the account with vivid clarity.

"He was so heavy," she whispered sounding far away and her right arm jerked involuntarily. "My arm was so sore and my legs were frozen. I could feel them prickling each time I kicked and I remember thinking that they would snap off any second like ice but I kept going."

Her hand came to her lips and her jaw shifted back and forth as her tongue squirmed in her mouth trying to evade a disgusting taste. Wilson again looked at his daughter's expression but saw that she was not perturbed. Instead she had a certain vacancy about her as if she wasn't conscious of her mouth's movements.

A common symptom of Post Traumatic Stress was involuntarily making movements related to the incident without realising it.

"The water tasted terrible," she said with distain and poked her pink tongue out of her mouth before returning it to talk again. "I had to keep my mouth open to breathe but the waves were so high they threw us all over the place. I don't know how long it took but it seemed like a year before I got us to the lifeboat. I can't remember who was in there but I know as soon as I grabbed a hold that Skipper wasn't there."

"Where was he?"

Immediately after he said the words Wilson regretted them. After encouraging Suellen this far to the point of near reliving her memories tasting seawater he had butted in breaking the smooth course of the story.

"With Alice," Wilson thankfully hadn't broken her trace but her voice changed notably. Mention of Skipper had transferred her thoughts from herself to another who she cared for greatly.

"With Alice," she repeated on a short hushed whisper. "He was looking for her. I don't know what happened. He cried so much."

Without realising Suellen put her head back against her father's heart, resting against the steady sound that anchored her to the present and blended with the sound of Skipper's lamenting sobs in her head.

"And did you look for Simon?"

"No he found me," Suellen sighed and closed her eyes to re-watch the following episode of events. "The boys pulled Dean out of the water but the boat nearly capsized when they hauled him aboard. It was too heavy. It wasn't going to stay afloat. They're were too many in it. The sea would overturn it soon."

Suellen continued to retell her story in truncated particles but what exacerbated Wilson's sense of unease was how she now spoke in two different frames. Exhuming the happenings privately with a vision only she had then after a momentary lapse elaborated for Wilson's understanding. She spoke on.

"Simon called out to me, he was a little ways off. He told me the other lifeboats were still on board the Albatross. We had to get them or we'd drown."

Suellen stopped for a moment when an image without warning or conscious command invaded her story and forced her to study it. She could see the titanic sight of The Albatross, her once home and safe haven transmogrified to a dangerous menace being swallowed by the vicious sea. The front of the ship pointed to the dark skies in goodbye while it's bow resigned itself to the sea. Broken and emasculated bearing only some semblance of the proud schooner she'd once been she was pulled into the vacuous waters without a struggle.

"Suellen?" Wilson asked when the silence had gone for too long.

At hearing her voice Suellen's brain sent a message throughout her body to remind it where it was while the mind hopped back and forth over the border of memory and reality. Her limbs flinched and she took a required breath.

"We swam over to the ship it had nearly sunk by then," Suellen rushed on. Her story was reaching its painful climax. "The boats were still strapped tight to the decking but we couldn't untie the knots underwater. The currents had pulled them tight and our hands wouldn't hold. Mine were, my hands were bleeding."

A ghost feeling of harsh sailing rope thick and fat from water absorption passed over Suellen's palm and for a moment she saw her scar spit open and bleed. After a blink the same hand was healed but she remembered the way the red line of blood had slithered through the water before it was spread into unseen fragments disbursed by the dominating liquid around them.

"I went up for air twice, each time the distance was longer. It was harder to get back each time it was sinking so fast and my chest hurt so much. Simon was cutting the ropes with his knife; it had been his father's boy scout knife he took it everywhere. We freed two of them and they just shot up to the surface in seconds but when we went for the third…"

The body Wilson held convulsed in his arms and attempted to retreat into a foetal position prevented by the muscular arm wrapped around her middle.

"I don't want to talk about it any more!" Suellen yelled with unexpected hostility and stomped her feet on the ground. Her fingernails clawed at Wilson's restraining arm digging down on the skin until the protective layer broke.

Wilson gave an unexpected cry of pain and twisted his arm away removing her sharp nails from the divots they'd dug but still he didn't let go. His reaction consequently knocked Suellen back against his collar bone and he seized the opportune moment of her present disorientation to tighten his hold on her.

"That's enough!" he growled with some ferocity to seise her hysteria. "Don't ever do that again Suellen! You understand?"

He couldn't decipher anything from her expression because of the fallen hair shielding her face that had been rearranged from her retaliation. But holding tightly Wilson watched the forelock hanging directly over the centre of her face fly back and forth rapidly on breathed air until it slowed to a tiny flicker.

"Fighting me wont change anything," Wilson said tensely through tight teeth quelling the distemper that could have destroyed the therapy session. There was an odd tingling feeling on his injured arm and he knew it was blood rising in the punctures but he ignored it, lowering its importance to a lower echelon of the scale.

"You're so close Suellen," he said after he'd recovered his tender tone. "You feel as though you can't say any more because it hurts so much but listen. Right now, right here, is the worst you'll ever feel about all of it. After this it'll still hurt but it will get better. It all depends on what you do now."

There was a long silence as they sat waiting. There was nothing else Wilson could say, he was right, this all depended on Suellen. Her choice would either finish the story and let Wilson help her or she'd rebury the pain deeper than before and leave the thoughts and images to fester in an abandoned corner of her mind.

There was a rattly flow of air and Wilson replaced his comforting hand on her back to remind her she wasn't alone. For the first time he was there for her.

"He got tangled in the ropes."

Suellen's rib cage rose when she filled it with oxygen and lifted her spine into a straight position. Like a composer her hands made a bowl shape in the air then came together with her palms opened flat but the gesture lost its orchestral grace when she curled her fingers inwards. Wilson observed the motion and thought absently for a moment that she appeared to be trying to grasp something intangible that was simply too much for her to hold.

"When he was cutting the third boat free they twisted around him and he couldn't get free. I pulled at them but they were so tight and I was so tired. Every time I loosened one thing another would tighten. It was impossible. He was so scared."

Suellen's narration had snapped into a faster gear but Wilson didn't attempt to hamper. He just held her steady and illustrated his own images of the drowning children in his mind and prepared himself for the unhappy ending.

"I kept trying and trying," Suellen's head sank slowly down from its high position as her voice became heavier with lament. "But I couldn't get him loose. I couldn't help him Daddy. Then he, he pushed me away."

A single tear slid down her jaw line to her chin before it fell and shattered on her leg after it had clung to her face vainly before letting go.

"He pushed me off him," Suellen said with a wobbly tone remembering the last image she had of her best friend. "He looked so calm, like he was defeated but didn't mind. As if he didn't care about what would happen. He wasn't afraid to die but I was. That's why I didn't fight the current and went to the surface. I was so weak."

The last bind to her restraint snapped and Suellen let herself cry. She didn't care how loud her howls were or how much her eyes stung from the saline tears or how violently she shook with each sob. Her only thought was of Simon.

"I'm sorry Simon!" she croaked out in between cries. "I'm sorry Simon it was my fault! It was all my fault!"

Around her she heard the howling wind and broken words of her distant shipmates scrambling to the new lifeboats and her unrecognisable voice calling to Simon but all those sounds were second to what she heard being bellowed into her left ear.

"It's too late! It's too late!" Mr Mcrea screamed as he and two other boys pinned her down in the rocking lifeboat while she fought for liberty. "It's too late!"

Suellen was in such a mental flurry being thrust between the painful past and unbearable present she was too confused to comprehend anything. Too much was happening at once for her to apply any logic. She felt anger, remorse, grief and regret in a colossal jumble but dominating all of this hopelessness was an engulfing feeling of being lost.

Mr Mcrea's pirate voice and the screams of the boys in a high pitch of terror dominated her eardrums. All of them yelled at her while they combined their strength to hold her down in the rocking lifeboat.

"Suellen! Suellen!" they called trying to calm her and dominate her will but all she could think of was Simon. Of going back into the water and bringing him up. She was sure she could still save him.

"Suellen, Suellen." Through the commotion and babel that swirled around her head Suellen heard another voice saying her name. This one didn't scream or roar into her ear, but instead spoke softly and for the first time Suellen became conscious of the person hugging her tightly.

Wilson was holding Suellen as she cried providing the support she needed to find her way out of the maelstrom and back to the present day where he was looking after her.

"It wasn't your fault Suellen there wasn't anything you could have done. Simon wanted you to live, not die with him. I think that's what you need to do now, live for Simon and live for yourself. You've suffered long enough."

He said her name gently to see if she would answer then saw her arm reach out and wrap around his side holding him tight. Her hands met together on his back and she rested her head on his shoulder just by his neck.

She was back.

Wilson heaved a great sigh of relief and tilted his head back to see the ceiling. Suellen was crying steadily and loudly but he didn't try to stop her. Today Suellen would cry, tomorrow they would talk and then the day after they would talk some more. They would do this together.

Unseen to Suellen Wilson did the thing she had the unique ability to make him do. He smiled.


End file.
